


Fancy and the Tramp

by Castielific



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Castiel's Family Being Assholes (Supernatural), Castiel's Family is Rich (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Homeless Dean Winchester, Homelessness, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Rich Castiel (Supernatural), Sharing a Bed, Switching, Temporary Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielific/pseuds/Castielific
Summary: "Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?""I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 150
Kudos: 477





	1. The question

**Author's Note:**

> Contrary to what the title may imply, there are no spaghettis in this story. 
> 
> This story is finished, I'll post a chapter every Wednesday and Sunday. 
> 
> As always, thank you to my wonderful beta underwatertribute for her help.
> 
> I hope you'll like this story. Please tell me if you do, I need some positive reinforcement right now

  
[ ](https://zupimages.net/viewer.php?id=20/53/7a2r.jpg)

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens. 

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. _You_ still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles. 

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate. 

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!" 

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look over her shoulder. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before. 

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It was for some kind of assistant job. It sounded easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. But it was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east. 

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off. 

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby. 

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It was able to pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of having a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now. 

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone. 

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today. 

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. _No one_ wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin. 

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky. 

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet. 

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear. 

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shins. 

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred dollars," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex? 

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze. 

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them. 

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek. 

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar. 

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint. 

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't. 

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three!" 

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures. 

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck. 

You know what? That's _not_ okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king _and_ make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes. 

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile. 

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here. 

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled. 

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends them a look over her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way, 

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint. 

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'. 

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation at all, and they're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this. 

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer. 

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not. 

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. Dean's scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he's probably starting to realize it. 

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably tastes like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough. 

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces. 

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass. 

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here. 

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey. 

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole. 

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes. 

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?" 

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal. 

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they want some dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her. 

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments. 

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse. 

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely. 

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to dismiss. 

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout. 

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up. 

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand? 

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they walk away. 

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant. 

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair. 

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? _You_?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face. 

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything. 

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…"

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there. 

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash. 

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose _me_? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's _kicked_ the puppy. 

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

"I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day... 

  
  
  



	2. The engagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that left a kudo or comment, you're the best <3
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on Sunday! Not to spoil it but there will be a lot of cheese, cute kids and bed sharing!

***********

"This thing is an abomination," Dean says, scandalized. 

Castiel just inclines his head to the side, in what Dean is starting to understand is his characteristic 'confused puppy' look. 

"A car isn't meant to do all that!" Dean says, gesturing at the car all around them. There are so many lights that he feels like he's in a cockpit. 

He nearly had a fit when Castiel came to pick him up in a freaking Tesla. Dean insisted that they should take his car to the engagement party instead, but Castiel made some argument about fitting in. Dean suddenly had a vision of his Baby parked in the middle of a bunch of douche cars like this one, or someone noticing the pillow and blanket in the backseat. He gave up when Castiel mentioned there being a valet. No one is driving his Baby except him. 

They've been driving for twenty minutes, and Dean still hasn't stopped complaining about the car. Castiel keeps talking to it, asking it about the traffic, or to put the heat or some music on. It's heresy is what it is. Dean banged his head on the damn roof when his seat began to warm up. He doesn't need a freaking ass heater!

"I thought you liked cars? Didn't you say you were a mechanic?" Castiel inquires. 

"Okay, first: this isn't a car, it's blasphemy," Dean says, pointing angrily at all the screens and lights around them. "Second: we're supposed to be dating, shouldn't you at least know what my job is?"

"You're right, we should know more about each other. Actually, I've made a list," Castiel pipes up, pressing a button and taking his hands off the wheel. Dean nearly jumps to grab it before they end up in a ditch, but the wheel seems to move on his own as Castiel searches his jacket's pocket. He hands Dean a two pages long bullet point list of questions such as 'what's your favorite color'.

"Oh. Good," Dean says with a fake smile. He presses the window command and throws the list out of it.

He's expecting Cas to shout or be pissed, but he just looks like he bit a lemon. "I worked hard on that," he grumbles, putting his hands back on the wheel and glaring at the road.

"It's bullshit. No one's gonna quiz you on my favorite shampoo brand or dog breed."

"You don't know that," Castiel says, scowling. 

"I'll mea culpa if they do, but nobody gives a shit."

"Do you always speak in that manner?"

"Do you?"

Castiel looks like he's second guessing this whole deal. Dean wonders if there is a 'throw the passenger out' option on the Tesla. If so, he's fucked. 

"What do you propose, then?" Castiel asks, breathing deep as if he's trying to control his temper. 

"Well, for one, you should tell me who is gonna be there and who they are to you. And probably a warning about each one. I mean, I've met your mother," Dean says, grimacing. "Please tell me she's the worst of it?"

"It's a rather big gathering, I can't tell you of everyone, but you're right, a boyfriend would know about my closest relations."

"The fact that you're not answering the question is not reassuring in the least, you know."

"My older brother is named Lucifer," Castiel starts, ignoring Dean's remark. "Lucifer is married to Lilith and they have two children."

Dean barely hears it as Castiel starts reciting his nephew's names. Lucifer? Lilith? Castiel? 

What the hell kind of family did Dean just step into?

"Wait, your sisters are called Anna and Hannah??" 

Maybe being thrown out of a moving car wouldn't be so bad after all. 

************

"I should have let you buy me nice clothes," Dean admits as soon as they step into the ballroom.

Dean won't be overdramatic and says that everyone stopped talking when they entered the room, but they definitely draw more than a pair of eyes. Everyone is dressed in expensive dresses and suits. Dean bought nice black jeans, a red shirt and even a black tie for the occasion, thanks to Castiel's money. He thought his attire would pass as good enough, while still being reusable in future job interviews. He didn't expect people to be dressed like they were at the Queen of England's wedding. 

"Your clothes are nice. You look very handsome. The rest is inconsequential," Castiel reassures as he watches his mother approaches, along with a couple of other people. 

Dean feels like he's gonna throw up. He's not sure if Castiel grabbing his hand makes it worse or not. The touch is strangely soothing, as is being able to squeeze someone's hand to pass his nerves. On the other hand, he's holding hands with a dude. Huh. Weird. They talked about PDA and all that on the way here, both deciding to keep it to a minimum, while still trying to do the basic new couple things: hand holding, a hand on the back, and minimal personal space (that last one seems to be usual for Cas anyway).

"Castiel, Dean. I'm glad you finally arrived," Cas' mother greets them, the reproach about them being late not going unheard from the way Castiel tenses up beside him. Again, she manages to deposit a quick kiss on her son's cheek while also eyeing Dean's outfit disapprovingly. Maybe that's just the face she makes to say hello? She did do it last time, too. "Dean, you have got to meet Castiel's godparents," she says in guise of a hello sliding next to him and grabbing his arm. Her hand feels like claws. Claws that she's probably ready to use if he acts 'improperly' toward anyone. 

Dean looks up at the couple she's dragging him toward, with what he hopes looks like a friendly smile and not a grimace at the realisation that Castiel and his mother are basically holding him in place from both sides.

The guy is wearing a black three piece suit over a white shirt. A honest to god gold pocket watch is hanging from his vest's pocket. His sickly white skin and hollowed cheeks are a sharp contrast to the dark skin and plump lips of the woman hanging at his arms. She's wearing a bright red lipstick and a black leather low cut dress that shows off her plump physique in a way that Dean definitely appreciates. He must look a little too long, because Castiel pulls slightly on his hand to bring him back to earth. 

"Dean Winchester, it's a pleasure," he says, taking the opportunity to free his arm from Naomi's claws as he offers his hand to shake.

"Julian and Billie Death," the man introduces. Death? Their name is _Death_?!

"We had no idea Castiel had finally found a beau. We're really happy for you, sweetheart" the woman - Billie - says with what looks like a sincere smile to her godson. 

Dean would be relieved that at least some people here seem nice, if they weren't literally called 'Death'. What the fuck is it with those people? Did they all meet at a creepy names convention?

Thankfully, Dean doesn't have to contribute much to the chit chat that follows, Castiel taking over as Dean looks around. The room they're in is gigantic. There are about eighty people here, which is less that Dean expected and a relief. Three large chandeliers light the room with a warm yellow that reflects into the crystal champagne flutes that everyone seems to be holding. At least, Dean thinks it's crystal. No glass of his ever shined like that. Hell, he wouldn't say no to a glass of champagne or ten at the moment. A waiter passes near them and he goes to grab a glass off the silver platter he's carrying, but Naomi's hand is back on his arm, keeping him firmly in place. She's still holding onto it with a firm grip, like he might bolt or give the finger to someone any minute now which...okay, fair, those are both things he feels like doing right now. 

He pouts as he watches the platter of alcohol get away. Those little food thingies looked damn good, too. 

He can't help but beam when Castiel releases his hand and hands him a glass that he got from God knows where. Dean brings it to his mouth, planning to down it in one go like a shot. Naomi's glare on the side of his face makes him slow down, and he sips at it instead, sending her a quick wink. Her nostrils twitch.

They talk for a moment with the Deaths about Castiel's work at the family company. He's told Dean in the car that he's a chartered accountant and in charge of the whole accounting department at his company. Whatever that means. There's numbers and money and stats, and none of it makes Dean want to learn anything more about it. 

It's so boring that Dean is nearly grateful to Naomi when she finally puts a stop to it. "My friends, I think it's time I go introduce this-," she pauses for a thousandth of a second here, "gentleman to the rest of the party. Be sure to try the foie gras toasts, we've just received it directly from le Périgord and it's scrumptious," she adds before dragging Dean toward another group of people. Castiel exchanges Dean's empty glass with a full one just as they reach a group of four people. Dean doesn't know if he should feel thankful or wary that Cas thinks it necessary right at this moment. 

"So the rumor was true then, you really did pick up a stray," one of the men greets them. 

Definitely wary, then. 

"Lucifer, don't tease your brother," Naomi reproaches, surprising Dean. Who knew she would be the one to defend him? "We've all been waiting for this moment for so long that it was to be expected that Castiel's partner could never meet our expectations."

There it is, she still hates him and the world makes sense again. 

"I think Dean is very handsome, Castiel," a gorgeous woman with auburn hair says. 

"Likewise, my lady," Dean answers with a cocky smile. Castiel scrapes his throat and Dean flinches. "I mean, I think Castiel is a very handsome man as well," he covers up, as best as he can. To sell it, he drapes an arm around Cas' waist and squeezes him to his side. He's pretty sure he's met metal poles less tense than Castiel. At least, it makes Naomi release his arm. Small mercies. 

"I can see what you see in him, Castiel," the other man beside Lucifer says. Dean isn't a fan of the way he seems to leer at him. 

"Let me guess," Dean says to divert the attention from him. "You must be Lucifer and Lilith," he points out to the first man. He's wearing a black suit over a black shirt and a black tie. The blonde woman hanging to his arm is in a lavender dress. She hasn't talked yet, but her eyes haven't left him. "And you," he says to the other couple, "are probably Michael and his lovely wife, Anael."

"I see my son briefed you well," Naomi says, miming being impressed.

"Oh yeah, he talks about you all the time!" 

"Really? What has he told you then?" Lucifer says. He smirks with what Dean guesses is supposed to be a challenge and Dean wonders if everyone here is suspicious of him. Maybe he should have asked Cas about his favorite color after all. 

"Wouldn't you like to know!" someone says as he joins them. He's a smaller man with light brown hair just that side of too long and a smirk that looks like it's a permanent feature on his thin lips. 

"Gabriel, it's nice to see you," Castiel greets. He sounds genuine for the first time since they've arrived, and as relieved as Dean feels by his older brother's interruption. "How was Bali?"

Castiel successfully manages to steer the conversation away from Dean again, which Dean is grateful for. This kind of diversion is probably a skill that Castiel had to develop to survive in such a hostile environment. Naomi disappears quickly after that, thank God, but Lucifer looks ready to pounce on the subject of their relationship again as soon as he has the opportunity. 

Thankfully, Gabriel is a babbler, and he tells them _everything_ about his two months trip to Bali, down to the color of the wallpaper in his bedroom. Lucifer and Michael seem to tire of it eventually and leave the group to go mingle elsewhere. 

Dean can't help but sigh in relief. The move makes him aware of the fact that his arm is still around Cas' waist, hand comfortably resting on his hip. He takes it off with the pretense of grabbing food from a passing platter. He grabs a nappin and starts loading it. 

"Someone is hungry," Gabriel mocks with a chuckle. 

Dean looks down at his handful of petit-fours. He took so many he can barely hold them all. Naomi would surely disapprove. Hell, from Castiel's look he disapproves too. Dean sends him a cheeky grin and puts three bites in his mouth at once. Castiel rolls his eyes in exasperation. 

When he looks back to Gabriel, he's loading his own napkin with about as much food as Dean. 

"Good call, if I know my mother, those stuffs are the only things we're gonna eat tonight, so we better load up," Gabriel says with a wink. 

Dean smiles back at him around his mouthful of food before nudging Cas with his elbow. "He's my favorite," he says, pointing at Gabriel who beams in response. 

"You see me greatly surprised," Castiel ironises with another eyeroll. 

"Honestly, I had no idea my brother had such good taste," Gabriel says, looking at Dean with appreciation. 

"Now you're making it weird, dude."

Gabriel fakes shock by bringing a hand to his chest. "He dude-ed me! I better shall go now before I fall in love. It would cause me great pain if I had to duel my favorite brother to win your heart, Dean. But do live with the knowledge that I would if I had to," Gabriel turns around and walks away with his chin raised theatrically high. 

"What went wrong with this one?" Dean laughs. 

"I wonder this every single day," Castiel sighs, miming despair despite the amused smile at the corner of his lips. 

"Let me guess, he's not a favorite of your mother?"

"Weirdly, he is," Castiel snorts. "Nobody is sure why, but she's very fond of Gabriel despite the many _many_ vexations he brings her." 

"Good for him," Dean nods, watching Gabriel make an exaggerated reverence to a woman and kiss the back of her hand. Cas told him earlier than he's already been married twice, so contrary to Cas' situation, Naomi dreads him introducing a new girlfriend to the family. He's apparently brought some pretty colorful characters to their table in the past. 

"You still have my two sisters to meet. Do you need a break or should we go on with it right now?"

"I should be the one asking you that. That vein on your forehead looks ready to pop any minute now."

Castiel subconsciously touches his forehead with a frown. "I actually don't feel much more tense than I usually do at this kind of event," Castiel confesses, straightening his jacket. "Probably less so having you by my side."

"Really? You're not worried I'm gonna ridicule you or something?"

"The only thing that worries me is that someone would manage to hurt your dignity for my sake."

"Yeah, don't worry, I don't give a fuck what they think of me," Dean reassures, strangely touched by Cas' worry. What a strange little man. 

"I wish I could say the same."

  
  


************

"So. We survived," Dean concludes when Castiel parks along the sidewalk to drop him off. 

It's past midnight already. It's been an excruciatingly long night. Dean is feeling exhausted. And a little queasy. He may have eaten too many petit fours. Who knew an indigestion of foie gras would ever be a problem in _his_ life. The thought alone makes him snort and feel a little better. 

"We did," Castiel sighs, cutting off the engine. 

"Barely."

"You performed much better than I would initially have thought."

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No, I mean-"

"I'm teasing you, Cas."

"Oh," Castiel says with a good natured smile, a little coy. 

They both stay silent for a minute. Dean may have hated it at first, but now he's not eager to quit the warm seat of the Tesla to go sleep on the cold backseat of the Impala. His baby will always be number one in his heart and he still thinks this car is ridiculous, but it's the middle of November already and he's not looking forward to freezing his ass off. Especially after a night spent mingling with High Society. Just thinking of the contrast is giving him whiplash. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home rather than...here," Castiel says, looking warily at the gas station they're parked in front of. The neon sign is literally only hanging on by a thread. It's not far from where Baby is parked and it was easier to tell Cas to come fetch him here, rather than to invent a fake home address. Cas still thinks Dean is a mechanic, and Dean didn't have the heart (and guts) to contradict him. 

"Yeah it's fine. My car is just around the corner," Dean says, pointing vaguely in the direction of the Impala. 

"Dean, I can't thank you enough for what you did for me tonight," Castiel confesses, turning a little in his seat to face him. "I wish I knew how to repay you."

"You're paying me, that's more than enough," Dean dismisses, squirming in his seat. Castiel is staring at him in that weird way he has, like he's trying to read Dean's mind. 

"About that," Castiel says, looking uncomfortable and suddenly finding the dashboard very fascinating. "Would you be willing to grant me your services again in a couple of weeks?"

Dean groans with a grimace. "Don't call it that! It makes me feel like an escort or something." Which, thinking about it, he kind of is now, right? Damn, he really lost all control of his life the moment he met Castiel, didn't he? "What's happening in a couple of weeks?"

Castiel sighs like he's about to drop the worst news of his life. "Our annual family trip to our resort in Vermont."

" _Your_ resort in Vermont? Wait, no, I'm not surprised actually."

"Know that I would understand if you're not willing to spend a weekend surrounded by my family in the middle of the woods."

"When you sell it like that, it does sound like a nightmare," Dean admits. "A whole weekend lying seems like a lot. Shouldn't you rather tell them we broke it off and be done with this whole mess? They've seen you can bag a hottie like me, that's enough, right?"

Castiel chuckles a little at the mention of 'a hottie'. He sobbers up fast though. "And have them pity, mock and coddle me for a whole weekend instead?"

"Yeah, that sounds like an even worse weekend alright," Dean admits. He looks down at his lap, scratching a nail against a stain near his knee (damn mini eclair). "I don't know, Cas. How far are we supposed to go? What if your family finds out about the lie?"

"I would feel rather humiliated, I suppose. It's still worth the risk to avoid spending a weekend being the only single person at every activity."

"Isn't your mom single too?"

"She _is_ ," Castiel says, like it's his point. "Last year we shared a couple’s massage session. Please don't make me live through that again," Cas begs, making Dean laugh. He looks horrified at the memory.

In the end, the decision is not that hard to make. Either spend his weekend freezing his ass off alone in the backseat of the Impala or sleep in a luxurious resort surrounded by douchebags? On one hand: warmth and probably silk sheets and massages and good food and maybe even a jacuzzi. On the other hand: cold and boredom. 

Plus, he would probably make a lot of money in one weekend. He should feel bad about exploiting Castiel's loneliness like that, but hell, the guy is rich and Dean uses a pair of pants as a pillow most nights (and not even a clean pair), so he thinks he's entitled to be paid for his help. 

"Here," Castiel says, leaning to the side to open the glovebox. Dean blinks at the small tube Cas hands him. "For your hands," Cas explains, nodding toward Dean's lap. 

Dean looks down at his hands. They've been dry and so cracked up they bleed every time he moves his fingers. He hadn't even realized he was scratching them right now. "Thank you," Dean says, squeezing a little cream from the tube into his palm. The cold hasn't been kind to his body recently. He's also had a cough that he can't quite shake for the last ten days. 

"I can lend you some gloves if you don't have any," Castiel says, a little hesitant. 

Dean doesn't, but he won't take any charity. 

Castiel sighs at Dean's silence. He knows Cas doesn't get it. Not entirely, at least. He honestly thinks Cas just wants to help and is trying to be nice. That guy doesn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. It doesn't change what Dean thinks though. He'll play his role, but he's not a freaking puppet to be dressed up and shown off. 

Of course, Dean would love to be pampered with warm clothes and gifts, but he's also a stubborn bastard and he won't go back on his 'no dressing up' rule. It starts with a pair of gloves, and then Cas will be trying to buy him a nice suit so he fits in, and brings him to a hairdresser for a much proper haircut or something. Okay, maybe not a haircut, Dean thinks, eyeing Cas' perpetual bed hair. Still, he can't become complacent. He's not a kept man and doesn't need a sugar daddy. He has clothes. Not many, but enough. Fuck anyone that says it's not enough. 

"A weekend sounds more intimate. How much PDA do you think they will expect?" Dean asks, scratching his ear and hating the fact that just talking about it is making his cheeks heat. What is he, a thirteen years old girl?

"PDA?" 

"You know, like holding hands and...stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Come on, Cas, you know what I'm talking about!" Dean bursts, exasperated at Castiel's confusion. "We're a new couple spending a whole weekend in a romantic setting. Surely they will expect us to be...couple-y. You know. Probably much more than we were tonight."

"Oh," Castiel says. He looks about as uncomfortable as Dean feels, which is a little reassuring, if not helpful. "I don't know how to act 'couple-y'." The dork actually mimes air quotes, making Dean roll his eyes. "Do you?" The question seems genuine and Dean is taken aback. 

He doesn't exactly have a stellar past in terms of romance and relationships. He's always been more of a fuck them and leave them kinda man. The last girlfriend he had was Cassie in highschool and it lasted about four months. Or did Lisa count? He was very fond of Lisa, even though that ship sailed after about five dates. 

"Not really," Dean sighs. 

"I have to say that I really appreciate what you're doing Dean, this can't be easy for you, especially as you're heterosexual."

"Heh, it's not that bad. At least, you're hot," he says with a wink. Which is obviously a very weird thing to say, judging by Cas' face. Yeah, well, even as a fake gay man, Dean's got to have standards. 

  
  



	3. The wake up call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I've just realized I've posted this one day early... I guess I was really impatient to share this chapter with you. Let me know what you think^^

************

When they arrive at the resort a couple of weeks later, Dean feels like a kid at Disneyland. What they call their 'resort' is a gigantic lodge made of light woods and glass. It looks like the kind of place you only see in the movies, with legit deer heads mounted on the walls inside, and giant couches in the common room. There are fireplaces _ everywhere. _

They're apparently the first to arrive, so Dean insists that Cas show him everything there is to see. He knows he probably looks ridiculous with his jaw hanging and his fingers poking at everything like he's checking if it's real, but Dean has never been in such a beautiful place before. 

If the common spaces are majestic, their room is even more awesome than he could have imagined. Where he thought there might be jacuzzi somewhere, it turns out there is one in every bedroom. Where he thought there might be a nice view of a lake, it turns out they have a freaking amazing view of the lake and mountains and forest all around. The sheets are silk and the BATHROBES. Damn, he's definitely stealing those bathrobes. 

"Could you stop rubbing your face over everything, it's making me extremely uncomfortable. Especially the moans," Castiel notes, eyes round. 

"I can't believe you live like this  _ all the time _ . Look at that, Cas, this gift basket probably cost more than I make in  _ a month _ ." 

"You're welcome to keep it all if you wish."

"Damn right I wish!" Dean says, hugging the basket to his chest. There are some weird things in there like some moldy looking cheese, and overly complicated chocolates. He can't wait to try it all. It probably tastes disgusting, but he's still gonna eat it all, just because he can.

************

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't wear a tie over a plaid shirt. I won't allow it."

"But-"

"No."

************

"How nice, you really did choose an outfit that fit this environment," Naomi greets him, looking at his red and black plaid shirt. 

"Cas didn't want me to wear a tie," Dean grumbles, with a half-teasing, half-reproachful look at his partner. Cas got very upset about the tie and plaid thing and some not very nice words were exchanged. No hard feeling because it was stupid, but who knew someone had such strong opinions about clothes. Especially Cas, who looks like he's wearing a variation of the same dark blue suit every single time Dean sees him. And that trenchcoat is more of a fashion faux pas that plaid could ever be if you were to ask Dean. Which you shouldn't. Well, like he said, words were exchanged. 

Naomi, for her part, is looking as fashionable as ever, if more casual than before, in a huge white pullover and grey leggings. Although he's not sure if it's a pullover or a dress, maybe a tunic? What he's sure of is that it's definitely not simple wool. Probably cachemire or baby rabbit fur or something.

Naomi slides her arm under his and guides him to a long table covered in cold meats. He's never seen so many types of mixed meats before. He can barely keep himself from drooling. 

"I've kept you a seat right beside me," Naomi says, pulling a chair for him to sit, right next to the head of the table. 

He would be worried if he wasn't so hypnotized by the sheer amount of food on the table. Everyone sits once Naomi does, Castiel taking the seat right next to Dean. He's disappointed to notice that Gabriel isn't anywhere near him, while Lucifer is right in front of him. He's his least favorite one, right in front of Michael who acts nice enough but gives him the creeps. Anna, Castiel's youngest sister, is a delight, but sadly absent this weekend due to College exams. Hannah is nice enough, if more subdued. Gabriel is awesome, and Naomi is in an entirely different category. 

Dean is surprised to notice that, even though Cas is wearing his usual suit, everyone else is wearing some kind of pullover or winter dress. Lucifer is even wearing jeans, which is quite unexpected. Although he only ever saw them during an official event, he should have guessed they don't wear tuxedos every single day. But, hey, who knows how rich people live? Certainly not Dean.

After a short speech from Naomi welcoming everyone and wishing them a good meal, they all start filling their plate with cold cuts, potatoes, and some pickles. 

"I gotta admit, Cas, this is way less fancy than I thought it would be," Dean whispers as he piles up some ham on his plate. 

"Raclette is a traditional winterly meal in France and Sweden, especially in mountainous regions."

"What's 'raclette'?" Dean asks, probably mispronouncing that word. It's just meat and potatoes, do they give pompous french names to everything in this family?

" _ That _ 's raclette," Castiel says with a nod toward the waiters that just entered. They're bringing a bunch of giant quarter rolls of cheese to the table, putting one between every couple of people. Dean watches with wide eyes as one of the giant pieces of cheese is settled between Cas and him. He's never seen so much cheese in his life, outside of the shop. It's hanging from a metal contraption with a heating lamp melting the sides of it. He watches in fascination as Castiel puts his plate under it and uses some kind of wooden spatula to push the melted cheese down. It dribbles slowly all over his food, covering every piece of cold meat and potatoes in a thick layer of cheese. 

"Oh my god, I think I just had an orgasm."

The sound of Naomi choking in outrage just makes it even better. 

  
  


************

"Are you sure you're okay, Dean?" Castiel asks, standing at the head of the bed. 

Dean barely managed to walk to their room and promptly face planted on the bed. He hasn't moved in the last ten minutes, only moaning from time to time. 

"I'm so full of cheese."

"I did tell you that you didn't have to finish the whole roll."

"It was awesome," Dean says dreamily into his pillow. 

"You're not gonna say that when you start sweating cheese during the night," Castiel warns, teasing. "Believe me, we've all been there and have learnt from our mistakes."

"I regret nothing."

Dean grunts when Cas sits on the side of the bed to take off his shoes. It makes the mattress move and brush against his swollen stomach. Why is he still wearing pants anyway? He slides a hand under himself to undo the buttons on his jeans and groans in relief when the pressure on his stomach is finally released. He starts squirming to try and shimmy out of his pants altogether.

"What are you doing?"

"Pants. I don't want them anymore. Need them off," Dean grunts, half asleep already.

He can feel Castiel's stare on him, probably incredulous and regretting ever meeting an idiot like him, as he squirms like a worm until his jeans are at his knees. 

"I'll get you your pajamas," Castiel finally says, voice a little hoarser than usual.

Dean listens to him rummage through his things. He doesn't like the idea of someone going through his stuff, but he barely has the energy to take his pants off, so he'll cope. 

"I can't find them," Castiel says after a few minutes, making Dean startle. He had been nodding off. 

"I don't have any," Dean says, words so muffled by the pillow that it's barely intelligible. 

Castiel mutters something that sounds like a disapproval of his packing ability. Dean doesn't care. He's full of good food, lying on silk sheets and a mattress that feels like a freaking cloud. Nothing is going to bring him out of this high. 

Castiel starts to take off his shoes, making Dean mumbles "You're a godsend," into his pillow in thanks. 

"You could at least  _ try _ to help," Cas accuses when he tries to pull Dean's pants off the rest of the way. It's stuck under Dean's knees. Dean makes a feeble attempt to move his legs to help. Given Castiel's pestering, he would say it's not really helpful. 

"Noooo," Dean whines when Castiel grabs his ankles and drags his lower body to the side. Dean tries to kick him, feebly, and miss, his legs falling back to the bed with a whoosh. 

"We're supposed to share this bed, you know," Castiel grumbles. He's apparently kneeling on the bed now and pushing against Dean's hip for him to move. 

Dean raises his head, ready to bitch. This leads him to notice that he is indeed sprawled in diagonal over the bed. He sighs and rolls as well as he can with minimal effort until he's more or less on his side of the bed. 

"We didn't talk about sharing the bed," Dean says. Castiel freezes in his move to get under the covers. He's somehow put on pajamas like a respectable person. One of his legs is still on the ground, the other knee under the raised blanket. 

"Is that going to be a problem?" Cas asks, wary. 

Dean bites his lips. Outside of Sammy, he's never slept in the same bed as a guy before. Wait, does passing out drunk next to a bunch of dudes count? If not, this is definitely new for him. He's nowhere near drunk. Plus, Castiel is gay. Shouldn't he be worried?

No, that's stupid. He might not know the guy that well, but Cas doesn't strike him as a midnight gropper. Hell, Dean tends to be an octopus when he sleeps, Castiel should probably be worried about  _ him. _

"It's okay," he decides, falling asleep not a minute later. 

  
  


************

Dean realizes as soon as he wakes up that it is  _ not _ okay. At all. 

Somehow, they've managed to wrap their bodies around one another so tightly during the night that he's not even sure where his left arm is. The only part he can clearly feel is his boner that is firmly nudged right in the crack of Cas' ass and wow, that's way too much homo for him. He tries to wriggle his arm free from under Cas' torso without waking him, but the guy weighs a ton, especially with Dean draped over him. 

That's the kicker, isn't it? 

Cas was obviously innocently resting on his stomach before sleeping-Dean decided to slide all over him and hug him to his chest like a freaking teddy bear. Dean can't even blame Cas for their actual situation. 

Thank God, the guy is still sleeping soundly right now, nose buried in the pillow under his head. Dean's cheek has somehow gotten glued to the back of Cas' shirt and he peels it off with a grimace. He tries to raise his hips, but with his leg draped over like it is, it's impossible to do so without putting more weight on the guy, and probably waking him up. Hell, Dean's leg is literally curled up around him, his foot half under Cas' thigh on the other side. He's pretty sure he has some of Cas' hair in his mouth too. It's a wonder he didn't just smother the guy into his pillow by using  _ him _ as a giant pillow. 

So much for the no homo. His erection doesn't seem to care if the warm ass under it is female or not. It definitely doesn't seem to be abating even now that Dean is conscious and aware it's a dude's butt he's nestled against. 

Fuck his life. 

He went to buy a freaking americano and three weeks later he's in bed with a guy and questioning his whole sexuality. 

Not that he's questioning it. Nope. It's just his dick that's confused. He likes chicks. 

What he means is, if he had to choose a guy, gun-to-the-head had to, he guesses Castiel wouldn't be so bad. But he doesn't, nope, plenty of chicks to go around. He's just getting a little too deep into the method acting thing, that's all. 

Realizing there is no way he can get free without waking Cas and facing a very awkward situation (again dick-ass: not cool), Dean decides that he may as well rip the bandaid off. 

He counts to three and literally rips himself from Cas, rolling to the side. He probably should have assessed the situation a little better, because he hadn't realized he was that close to the edge of a bed. 

A yell, a grunt and an oof later, he's on the ground with a dude lying on his chest and between his legs and oh, Castiel's dick is apparently into method acting too. 

"Your skin smells like cheese," Cas groans, nose lodged into Dean's neck and voice sounding like it passed through a grinder. Cas takes a few sniffs to confirm it and Dean's dick twitches between them. Stop it, Dick. "I need coffee," Cas whines, rubbing his nose into the neck of Dean's shirt. And not moving away. Why isn't he moving away? On the contrary, he seems to be snuggling closer to get comfortable. Dean bites his lip to stop an involuntary whimper when the head of Cas' dick nudges the underside of his balls through their clothes. Is Cas really not feeling that???

"Huh. Cas?"

All he gets in response is a snore, Castiel's breath tickling his collarbone. 

How do you politely say 'please get your dick away from my balls before I come all over your shirt? No homo, of course.'

They both jump at the sound of loud knocks at the door. 

"Breakfast in twenty!" comes the chorus of voices of some of Cas' nephews. Thank God, the children don't enter the room, the sound of their tiny feet getting away and their voices resonating a few doors down the corridor. "Breakfast in twenty!" they yell again in glee, happy to have been given the very important mission of waking everyone. 

Before Dean has time to react, Castiel is getting up. He's grumbling and scrubbing at his eyes. His hair is in more disarray than ever, and from Dean's view on the ground the tent in his sweatpants is very impressive. He doesn't pay any mind to Dean, except for grunting what kind of sounds like a hello before he drags his feet to the bathroom. 

"What the fuck am I doing?" Dean despairs to himself, letting his head drop back on the ground a little too brusquely. He hits it a few more times for good measure, wondering if that might put his thoughts in order. 

His dick says it doesn't work. 

************

It takes ten very frustrating minutes of Dean trying to remind his dick of the do's and don'ts of heterosexuality before it finally starts to flag. 

The young man feels like a blushing teenager when Cas comes out of the bathroom a dozen minutes later, wet and only wearing a towel and his dick forgets all about the lesson he just tried to teach him. 

Dean closes his eyes and runs to hide in the bathroom, ignoring Cas' confused head tilt.

"Damn you, dick!" he says to his newly interested and obviously very confused dick. 

  
  


************

By the time he gets out of the bathroom, Cas is nowhere to be seen, having probably already gone down for breakfast. Dean ponders for a few minutes if he should even get out of this room. He's still queasy from all the cheese. Their morning adventures didn't help, making him so nervous that his stomach is in knots. His thoughts are racing and he doesn't feel like seeing Cas right now. 

He doesn't have much of a choice though. So he braces himself and goes down to breakfast. The kids are all in the common room, along with some of their parents and nannies, playing some kind of game. Dean waves them a quick hello as he passes. 

When he arrives in the dining room, the long table they ate at last night is empty. The butler, mister Ketch, guides him to the heated veranda instead where a bunch of round tables are gathered. The glass panel offers a breathtaking view of the lake below, but Dean is too nervous to enjoy the view, zeroing on Cas instead. 

He's sitting at a table along with Naomi, Anael, Hannah, and her husband, Gadreel. Dean approaches them, swallowing nervously when Cas pushes the chair next to him so that Dean can sit beside him. The other man leaves his arm on the back of the chair once he's seated, and Dean slides his ass to the edge of the chair to avoid his back from brushing against it. It's a casual move from Cas, one they've agreed to and made all through last night. They've agreed that as a couple, their arms should brush, hands hold from time to time, maybe a few tender touches here and there wouldn't go amiss. They did really well with all that all through dinner last night, even cuddling a little on the couch after, and that's obviously what confused Dean's brain (and sexuality). Now that he's more aware of it, it feels more intimate,  _ too _ intimate. He cringes when Cas puts a hand on his arm as he laughs, jumps when their thighs brush under the table and tense up when Cas' chest lean against his arm as he reaches for the orange juice. 

"Are you okay, Dean? You look a little pale," Naomi says, always observant. For once, he's grateful, because that gives him the opportunity he needed. 

"Actually I'm not feeling that great. I think all that cheese didn't agree with me."

"You did eat quite a lot of it," Anael points out, a teasing glint in her eyes. 

"It's my fault, I probably should have warned him about the danger of raclette indigestion," Cas jokes. His hand lands on the side of Dean's neck, thumb brushing against his cheek in a comforting gesture. Dean hates the way he immediately leans into it. 

"I'm sorry, but I don't think skiing would be a great idea right now," Dean says. He needs a little time away from Cas, he needs to think about all that is screwing with his head right now. 

"That's probably wise," Naomi says, sounding sorry.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Cas asks softly, his hand sliding to Dean's shoulder. 

"No!" Dean answers, a little too fast. "Go have fun with your family. I'm probably going to nap all day anyway."

"That will make two of us," Hannah says gently, rubbing her swollen belly. She's seven months pregnant, obviously not fit to ski either. 

"I admit I'll be reassured to know that someone will be here with you," Gadreel, her husband, says. 

"Yeah, because the dozen staff don't count," she says with a fond eye roll, obviously teasing her husband about his worrying nature. 

"That's settled then. We should probably go, we're already running late according to the schedule and Lucifer must be fuming," Naomi announces, getting up, followed by the rest of the table, except Hannah and Dean. 

"Let's hope he's not in too much of a bad mood already or we'll have him on our backs for the whole day," Anael says as she walks away with Naomi. 

Gadreel stays a minute more, talking quietly to Hannah and kissing her forehead before he goes. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Castiel asks, brows creased in what look like genuine worry. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone, especially if you're not well."

"I'll be fine," Dean says, sending a look to Hannah who's looking at them with a gentle smile. "Hannah's here too."

Cas nods, still looking troubled. Dean wonders for a second if he's really worried, or just a very good actor. Or maybe he doesn't like the idea of paying Dean to do nothing? Cas passes a hand in his hair and Dean can't help but close his eyes. It's been so long since anyone touched him this way, that he's craving it despite himself. He feels Cas' lips brush his forehead and hates the way it makes him feel. He keeps his eyes closed as he hears Cas' steps going away. This isn't right. His heart isn't supposed to scream for Cas to stay, for more contact. Is he that touch starved? Or is it Castiel that has that effect on him?

Dean sighs. He's in for a long day of musing. 

Hannah wishes to wave the others off so Dean follows her to the balcony over the parking lot. Dean feels a little regret as he watches them load up the truck with skiing equipment. He's never skied before. His family wasn't exactly the type to go on winter vacations. They weren't the type to go on to any vacations, really. Which is kind of ironic since they lived in motels and spent Dean's childhood traveling all the time. It was nowhere close to vacations though. There weren't happy meals and day activities. Just two bored kids and a fucked up dad.

Dean was kind of looking forward to skiing. He watches the way the top of the mountain is covered in snow. They aren't high enough here to have some at this time of the year, but the day is sunny and the trees all around are bright with autumn colors. Dean wonders if he could get away with going on a walk without blowing his cover. The idea of coming to such a beautiful place and choosing to stay locked up in a room is way too sad. Who knows if he'll ever get the chance to see places like this ever again? He certainly never had it before and his life isn't exactly getting better those days. 

He's a car short of sleeping in the street and since no one wants to hire a nearly thirty years old high school dropout, he can't see it changing for a while. 

  
  


************

The air is colder than he thought it would be, a freezing breeze blowing despite the blue sky above. Dean buries his hands in the pocket of his coat, regretting to not have accepted the offer of borrowing Castiel's gloves. 

He doesn't regret going for a walk though. The lake is gorgeous and the forest all around it magnificent. Dean's been following a path along the edge of the water for half an hour now, so amazed by the beauty of it all that he has nearly forgotten about Castiel and his pompous family. The sound of the wind blowing through the tree, making leaves dance in the air around him is broken by the sound of children laughing, picking Dean's curiosity. 

He follows the sound, to a little park. It's just two swings and a few benches surrounded by the trees. Claire and Jack, two of Cas' nephews, are running around the makeshift playground while their mother is sitting on a wooden bench watching them with a smile. Hannah waves at him when she notices him and Dean hesitates as he waves back. He would have liked to walk further down the path and isn't really in the mood for company. The children take the decision away from him when they run straight to him. 

"Look, Dean, I've found a stick!!" Jack announces excitedly, nearly hitting Dean in the face with it when Dean squat down to greet the three years old boy. 

"I have one too!" Claire says, pushing Jack's stick away to put  _ her _ stick in Dean's face. "And it's bigger!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"No! Look!" Jack puts his obviously bigger stick next to his sister's to compare it. Claire immediately grabs it and breaks it in two. 

"No it's not," the five years old little girl declares proudly. Jack looks like he's going to bawl his eyes out. Dean sends a look to Hannah who just rolls her eyes in exasperation, visibly used to her daughter's bitchy antics.

"That wasn't very nice, Claire," Dean reprimands. Jack immediately burrows into his torso, nearly making Dean fall backward on his ass as he seeks comfort. Dean hugs the kid to his chest as Jack sniffles. "You know what," Dean declares, grabbing Claire's stick before she has time to react. "How about you both get another chance," he suggests.

"But-" Claire starts to protest, trying to grab back her stick, but Dean is keeping it out of her reach. 

"You broke your brother so now neither of you have one," Dean reminds, sending a nervous look toward Hannah when it looks like Claire is on the verge of crying, or screaming. The last thing he needs is to cause a scandal by being accused of mistreating the children. Hannah offers him an encouraging smile though, so he continues. "Now you both get another chance to find the bigger stick, how about that?" Jack looks up at him, eyes a little less moist, getting rounder in askance. "I'll count to one hundred and the one who's found the bigger stick has won."

Claire sends him a dubious look, clearly still unhappy about him taking her stick. Jack, though, literally jumps to his feet, looking ready to sprint away to find a new one. 

"Ready?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge at Claire. "Go!" Jack ran away, squealing in excitement. Claire stays right where she is, arms crossed and sulking. "One. Two," Dean says pointely. "Looks like Jack is already way ahead," he taunts, looking at Jack who's found what is admittedly a very tiny branch. "Guess he'll be the one to win the prize then," Dean shrugs in a 'what can you do gesture', trying to smother his smile when Claire's eyes go round with excitement. 

"There's a prize?!!"

"Yup, and I'm already at six so I'd hurry up and start searching if I were you."

Claire screams, making Dean wince, before she runs off. Dean can't help but chuckle. He looks up when he hears clapping. 

"Well done, it's not an easy feat to avoid drama with those two."

"She's got quite a temper, hasn't she?" Dean asks, walking to Hannah.

"Yeah," Hannah confesses, blowing out a breath. "She takes after my mother in more than one aspect."

"I can believe that," Dean says with a smirk as he sits next to Hannah on the bench. Claire does look like Naomi. She's got the same blond hair and sharp blue gaze. 

"So. What's the prize?"

"I have no freaking idea," Dean answers with a grimace, making the woman laugh. "Guess I'll have to improvise?"

"You know what, you just saved me from having to drag them back screaming and kicking. I bought them a new board game to play tonight, how about you offer it to them?"

"Are you sure? I could reimburse you maybe. I was the one to suggest a gift after all."

"Don't worry about it. They'll like it even more if it comes from you anyway."

"You've got a deal then," Dean says. "Fifty three!" Dean yells. 

"You should be way past a hundred by now."

Dean shrugs with a wink. Claire keeps sending looks every few seconds at her brother, to make sure he hasn't found a stick bigger than the one she already has. Jack is squatting and poking at a flower, looking fascinated. He looks like he's already forgotten all about his stick search. 

"Not very competitive, is he?" Dean chuckles. 

"Nah. He's more like his uncle Cas in that way."

Dean raises an interrogative eyebrow at her, feeling like they're a story behind that remark. 

"When we were kids, my brothers would spend hours running around and rough housing, but not Cas. He could sit under a tree for hours reading, or lie on the ground and just look at the sky," she says. She starts to laugh to herself as she seems to remember something. "He got lost in those very woods one summer. Everyone has been in the water, jet skiing and such, and suddenly we turned around and he wasn't there anymore. They had to bring a search party and everything. There were helicopters circling the woods. It took hours to find him. I had never seen my mother so upset before. Or again, really," Hannah reflects. "You know what he said when he was asked why he ran away?"

Dean shakes his head, a smile at the corner of his lips. 

"'I was watching the bees'," Hannah says before breaking out laughing. Dean laughs with her. "He saw a bumble bee and just...followed it into the woods until he got turned around." She shakes her head fondly. "He was Claire's age at the time. He's always been a gentle soul," she notes with a small smile. 

"Dean! Dean!" Claire starts calling, trying to pick up an enormous tree branch from the ground. It's at least twice her size. "I win!!" she screams happily.. 

Both adults chuckle at the glee on the little girl's face. Dean shakes his head and gets up to go to Claire. A hand gently grabs his arm, holding him back.

"I'm glad you've found each other."

  
  


************

After a quick lunch with Hannah and the kids, Dean goes back to his room for a nap. The food was awesome, but there were way too many kids, it was exhausting. 

He gets why Hannah didn't bring them all to the park. Claire was an angel compared to Lucifer's kids. He's pretty sure that the ten year old named Crowley tried to lift his wallet, and Ruby spent the whole meal telling them about the dead bird she found, in excruciating detail. Michael's twins were a little better, mostly because they were still toddlers, so they didn't do much except laugh and slobber on everything. Still, Dean had a new found respect for the poor nannies that have to take care of the kids while their parents went to have a good time skiing. 

He wonders what it must feel like to be surrounded by such a large family. All his life, Dean only had his dad and Sammy. Now he doesn't have anyone anymore. Dad died and Sammy...Sammy has his life far away and is probably better off without Dean.

Still, would it have been like this for them if their mother hadn't died in that fire? If John hadn't stopped talking to the whole Campbell family? Dean knows he has a few cousins, and as far as he knows, his grandparents are still alive. It's too late now, but was there ever a chance for them to be as close as Castiel's family seem to be? 

Sure, the Novaks aren't always nice to each other (that's an understatement), but Dean is sure they wouldn't all be here right now if they didn't love each other. Naomi certainly seems to care about her children in her own, very controlling, peculiar way. She's all kind of awful, but surely having a mom like her is still better than no mom at all?

Dean can't help but feel like a fraud. No matter their flaws, the Novak family has welcomed him into their ranks. Hannah's words keep turning inside his head. Castiel is a gentle soul. Surely he deserves better than this whole masquerade. He deserves to meet someone real. He deserves to introduce his real boyfriend to his family and live all those first times with him. Dean shouldn't be here and spoiling it all with a lie. They're opening their arms (barely, but still) to him, who knows if they will do the same to Castiel's next partner? Who's to say that their bad experience with Dean won't impact their behavior toward Cas' future  _ real _ boyfriend later on?

He shouldn't be doing this. He's lying to everyone and it's starting to get to his head. Even his own body is confused. All through dinner last night, Dean had been trying to mimic the affectionate gestures he could see the other couples doing with each other. He's been trying to sell this relationship so badly, by brushing his hand against Castiel's skin, hugging him to his side and having tender attentions for him, that it must have scrambled his brain to the point that he started doing it naturally. 

It's not him though. He likes chicks and boobs. He never looked at a man's ass before in his life. Okay, maybe once or twice, but only to hold it in comparison to a woman's backside, that's all! 

Yet Castiel...he's spent the whole drive here wondering if the scruff on his cheeks would feel rough like his own or softer (it's softer, he touched it last night). He has the most beautiful eyes Dean has ever seen, woman or man. His voice makes Dean shiver in places he definitely shouldn't shiver for a man. And his damn hair. Dean wants to either pull on it or tame it at all times. 

_ Oh.  _

Oh God. 

It's not a fluke.

He really is attracted to Castiel. 

Shit, what does that even mean??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter, it was a little more bitter sweet, but I promise the next one is more... let's say hot and sweet :-p
> 
> For those who don't know what raclette looks like, here it is:
> 
>   
> 
> 
> That's the fancy version, but pretty much every french person has a raclette machine ([like this](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.ufe.org%2Fevenement%2Fraclette-party&psig=AOvVaw1LLXdF9jL-5wqJvriCR3PV&ust=1607881693387000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=2ahUKEwjl_tWagMntAhWM0OAKHYscA0UQjRx6BAgAEAc)) at home. You can buy raclette cheese cut into slices. Everyone has their own little pan where they put cheese and potatoes and cold cuts, then put it into the machine to melt. It's a very popular and a friendly kinda meal. I had one last week. It's awesome and delicious and you can't have a good winter without at least one raclette!
> 
> Have you ever tried raclette? I actually have no idea if people know about this abroad!


	4. The bubble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Smut is coming.

************

By the time Castiel gets back, Dean has had his freakout (about four times), changed his mind (countless times) and finally decided to say fuck it all and go with the flow. He's not sure what that actually means, except that he's done thinking about it. 

He was so tense just going in circles thinking about it, that he decided to test the jacuzzi. Now, a key is turning in the door and, well, Dean doesn't exactly own a swimsuit so…

He looks around, but there isn't anything to cover himself except bubbles. His clothes are on the bed, and he didn't think to bring a towel. He thought he would still have at least an hour before Cas came back. 

Dammit. As if their interaction this morning wasn't awkward enough. 

Dean is still panicking, checking if his lack of underwear is noticeable through the backwater, when the glass door slides open and Cas comes onto the heated veranda. 

"Hello Dean," Castiel says. "Are you feeling better?"

Dean blinks at Castiel. He seems more tanned than this morning, his cheeks rosy and his hair half sticking to his head and half sticking in every which way. His lips are really really pink. Have they always been that pink?

Oh great. So much for the end of the gay freakout. 

"Yup. Just. You know. Enjoying the view. I mean. The-," Dean eyes go rounds as he tries to correct himself. 

Thankfully, Castiel is looking above his shoulder at the view of the lake. Dean slides a little to the side to watch it too and damn, it is actually a great view, why hasn't he been looking at it? The sun is setting over the lake, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Along with the automnial forest, it's so full of colors and beautiful that Dean forgets his worry for a few minutes as they both contemplate it.

"It's a beautiful view indeed." 

When Dean turns back to him, Castiel diverts his eyes. His cheeks look even redder now, but it's probably just the heat of the water or the humidity or...something. 

"Did you have a good day skiing?"

"Yeah, I did. Lucifer had quite a ridiculous fall and ended up spitting snow," he says with a cheeky smile.

"Damn, I wish I could have seen that."

"Don't worry, Gabriel filmed it. I'm sure he'll be delighted to show you."

They both laugh for a second at the idea before the silence invades the room, heavier. 

"Dean, I wish to apologize about the way we woke up this morning," Castiel says, eyes earnest. 

Dean can feel his own cheeks redding, his heart suddenly running a sprint in his chest. "Hey no, we don't need to-"

"I believe I conducted myself in an inappropriate manner," Castiel apologizes. "I- I admit I don't remember much about what happened, I'm quite a heavy sleeper, but I've obviously made you uncomfortable, and I regret it."

"No listen, Cas, you-" In his haste to reassure Cas, Dean reflexively starts to get up. A cold breeze on his lower stomach suddenly reminds him of his state of undress. Eyes going wide in realization, he immediately let himself fall right back into the water. His feet skid under the water, making him fall on his ass and go under. He emerges back a second later, spitting out some water, arms flailing as he grabs the edge of the tub to stabilize himself. Once he's finally sitting straight again and has found his breath, he looks up, sheepish. Castiel is gaping at him, eyes round. "Is there any chance that you didn't see that?"

"I assure you I didn't see-," Castiel gulps, not quite meeting his eyes. "Why are you naked in our jacuzzi?" he asks, voice strangled. 

Dean pinches his mouth in an embarrassed grimace. "I don't have a bathing suit?"

"Oh. Oh. Yeah. That makes sense." Castiel looks like he needs to sit down. His eyes keep going to the bubbly water before he catches himself and brings them right back up. He's obviously flustered and...

"Cas, are you...attracted to me?"

Where the fuck did that came from?? Dean suddenly can't breathe. He's not sure if it's the panic or to hear the answer better, but he can't seem to gulp in any air anymore. Castiel doesn't seem better. He tries to sit on the edge of the jacuzzi before deciding against it and getting up, then trying to sit again. His feet slide onto the wet floor and he nearly falls on his ass too. He stands up straight instead and doesn't seem to know where to put his hands, eyes fixed just above Dean's left ear. 

"I am," he finally croaks. He clears his throat nervously before he continues. "You've a very attractive man, Dean. This said, I would never presume to-"

"Do you want to join me in here?"

"I- what?" Apparently Cas can't breathe either. In fact, every function of his body and brain seem to cut off as he blinks at Dean, mouth gaping open. 

Dean shrugs, "No pressure, I-I kinda just want to see what will happen if you do."

"If I- If I get into the jacuzzi with you? N-," Castiel seems to swallow back the word before he can utter it, "Naked?"

Dean bites his lips and nods, just once. He honestly has no idea what he's doing right now. Go with the flow, was that it? His dick certainly seems interested in the idea, so he's probably heading in the right direction… provided that he should let his dick guide him, of course.

"O-Okay," Castiel says. "So I just-," he looks down at his shirt like he has no idea how he's supposed to take it off or what a button even is anymore.

"I can turn around if you want?"

"Yes," Cas answers, a little too fast. "Please."

It takes a few minutes of rustling before Dean hears the sound of the water parting and splashing behind him. He takes a deep breath to try and soothe his nerves. There's no turning back, now, is there?

Oh God. 

Fucking americano. 

When he turns around, Castiel is sitting ramrod straight in the water, as far away from Dean as he could possibly be in the jacuzzi. Which is not very far at all. The poor guy nearly jumps out of his skin when Dean's feet brush against his as he settles back against his side of the tub. But eh, Dean kinda jumps too, so. 

He really is a thirteen year old girl. They both are.

The thing is, that's  _ not _ him. That's not Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester is a cocky mother fucker. He knows how to charm the pants off anyone and loves to flirt. He's good at getting laid. Hell, it's one of his greatest talent!

He gulps, takes a deep breath and slides forward until he's kneeling right in front of Castiel. He didn't think those blue eyes could get any wider, yet here they are, nearly bulging out. It would be funny if Dean's heart wasn't panicking in his chest too.

"Relax," Dean whispers, half to Cas and half to himself. He slides his fingers up Castiel's arm under the water, from his wrist to his shoulder. He observes his own hand as it draws patterns there. Somehow, he never thought a man's skin could be as soft as a woman's, yet Castiel's feels like silk under his fingers. There are some differences though, he ponders as he let his fingers slide up and down to Cas' elbow and back to the base of his neck. He can feel the muscles under the skin, less flexible than those of any woman he's been with. His fingers redraw Castiel's clavicle, passing over his Adam's apple as he gulps, then down toward a chest that is flat, strong and matted with a few hairs. Dean presses his palm against it, not used to that kind of firmness. His finger surrounds a nipple and that gasp,  _ that _ gasp he's heard before. It's hoarser, but just as satisfying. He watches in fascination as Cas' nipples harden. He wants to put his mouth on them, just as he would with a woman's. He pinches one, and his eyes are drawn back to Castiel's face when the other man lets out a whimper. Their eyes met and there is suddenly no doubt in Dean's mind. 

Castiel is as manly as they come, yet Dean  _ wants him _ . 

He wants him so damn bad. He has no idea what that means, or why this man in particular has managed to get under his skin like no other ever did. He's not sure he cares right now. He wants to explore every part of Cas' body, touch and map it out. Castiel's eyes tell him that he'll gladly let him, and it's all that counts in that moment. Just them and a whole bunch of skin to kiss and caress. 

Dean slides a little closer. Castiel's hands automatically go to his hips as Dean straddles his thighs. Dean grabs the edge of the tub over Cas' shoulders to stabilize himself as he sits himself on the other man's lap. Dean's shaft is squeezed between them, Cas' under him. If he slides a little more forward, he can just about feel the head of Cas' dick against his ass. It's a novel sensation. One he wants to explore more of. He's surprised by the urgency of that need.

Dean moves his hips in a circle, experimenting. They make the same noise when the move makes Cas' dick slip against Dean's crack. He raises up and a little down again, exploring the sensation until Cas lets out a little whine and grabs his biceps. Dean opens his eyes. He hadn't realized he had closed them, as he focused on the novel sensation. He wants to grab Castiel's dick under the water, push him more firmly against himself and rub himself all over it until they're both out of breath. He wants to hear Castiel moan and groan and cry and scream. He wants to see what Cas looks like when he comes. 

Just thinking about it makes his hips twitch, seeking friction against his own dick. The water is too soft around it, doesn't let him rub against Cas' stomach like he needs to. It's silk when he wants rough, soft pressure when he wants hard and it makes him groan in frustration as even the stroke of Castiel's shaft against him is suddenly not enough anymore. 

"Cas," he whines. He doesn't have more words in himself right now, frustration and desire blocking them in his throat. He gasps when a hand suddenly squeezes his dick, his hips ramming forward into the touch so violently that water slouches over the edge of the tub and falls in a loud splash on the ground around them. "Cas," he repeats. He feels lost between the need to rub back against Cas' cock or forward into his hand. He ends up moving erratically until Cas' hand grabs his hip and stops him from moving. Cas guides him firmly down, pressing him harder against him until he's sitting directly on Castiel's shaft, the head of it poking the soft spot just behind his balls. He moves his hips forward and back, just a little, and it is suddenly perfect. 

He only realizes he's thrown his head back when Cas' lips latched onto the skin just under his Adam's apple. Cas' hand is still stroking his dick between them, harder and harder. Dean's never felt like this before. He's thrashing, moving his hips frantically on Cas' lap and dick, searching for a high that is still just this side of not enough. He's grabbing the edge of the tub so hard his fingers are cramping, but still he uses the pressure to help him move, to fight against the weight of the water and bubbles trying to lift him away from Cas. 

Castiel's grip on his hip is bruising until suddenly it's absent. His hand slides backward instead. A finger scratches at the dip of his crack in askance and all Dean can answer is "Please," too lost to object to anything at this moment. 

It only takes a brush against his hole before Dean is coming, his hips moving on their own and teeth biting Castiel's shoulder as the other man lets out a primal grunt and raises his own hips to meet Dean's under the water. Castiel's dick slides in the space between Dean's dick and his own stomach, Cas' hand suddenly stroking them together and Dean just has the time to remind himself to open his eyes before he sees the rapture painted on the other man's face as he comes. 

  
  


************

"Well someone is feeling better," Gabriel says, smirking and taping two fingers against his own neck. 

Dean blushes, self-consciously scratching on the mark Cas has left on his neck while Castiel squirms beside him. They’re all in the sitting room, waiting for lunch to be served and now everyone is, more or less discreetly, trying to take a peek at his throat. 

At least now, they definitely sold themselves as a couple to everyone's eyes. 

Wait. 

Are they a couple?

Thankfully, this panic inducing thought is interrupted as Claire runs into the room and stops right in front of him. She crosses her arms with a pout, looking very serious. 

"You owe me a prize," she says, headstrong. 

Shit, he had forgotten about that. 

"What is this about?" Naomi asks, tilting her head in the same confused gesture that Castiel has. It's the first time Dean sees her do it. He would never have thought Cas herited that from her. Naomi doesn't exactly strike him as the kind of person who is openly confused often. 

"Oh, dear me, I totally forgot," Hannah pipes up, saving him. "Dean has brought down your prize earlier this afternoon and I had forgotten to give it to you," she lies. 

"He has?" Claire asks eagerly. 

"He did. Why don't you fetch your brother so that Dean can give it to you properly?"

"Why? It's not Jack's prize, it's  _ mine _ ," the little girl protests. 

"Are you sure? Because I've heard this kind of price can only be enjoyed with the help of a sibling," Dean says. "It's not half as fun alone."

Claire stares at him for a moment, her brows so furrowed it's crushing up her whole features. Finally she bats her arms dramatically. "Alright!" she declared. She drags her feet a few steps to show her disapprobation before she obviously can't keep the excitement down anymore and starts running toward the nursery. 

"Hannah? What is it about a prize?" Naomi asks again, obviously not pleased that she has to repeat herself. 

"Dean was kind enough to help me with the children this morning," Hannah says, sending a kind smile to Dean. "He had the children play a game to avoid one of Claire's tantrums, and promised a prize to the winner."

"You steered Claire away from one of her fits? I'd say that's quite a feat in itself," Hannah's husband Gadreel notes with humor. He looks genuinely impressed. 

Dean is opening his mouth to respond when a little body tackles him, nearly making him fall from his chair. 

"Where is the priiiize?" Jack says excitedly, climbing on Dean until he's seated on his lap. 

Hannah holds him a package that Claire intercepts before he can grab.

"I'm opening it!" she screams before tearing at the gifting paper around it. 

Jack doesn't seem upset by it, leaning forward to see what the paper is revealing. A squeal follows, and Jack is being squeezed between them as Claire hugs Dean. Her little arms aren't long enough to reach around Dean and Jack, but she nuzzles her head under his chin. Dean pats her head, a little awkward as he feels everyone's eyes on them. 

"Look, Jack, it's the game we wanted!" she says as she releases her hold on Dean. Somehow she manages to sit herself on his other leg and Dean fumbles a little to hold them both. 

"I take it you love your prize then?" Dean asks, beaming at the child's glee. 

"Yes, yes, yes," Claire answers while jumping up and down in his lap. "Thank you, thank you!" She leans back against his chest in what is probably supposed to pass as another hug as she reads what's written on the box for her little brother's benefit. 

Dean mouths a quiet 'thank you' to Hannah. 

"Can we play?" Jack asks, looking up at Dean with huge caramel eyes. 

Dean is on the verge of accepting, but bites his lips, looking up. Most of the adults have lost interest, talking between them. Only Hannah and Gadreel are looking at their children fondly. Despite the fact that Lilith is talking to her, Naomi's eyes are also right on Dean and slightly slitted. He can't quite read her look, but for once it doesn't look like disapproval or suspicion. 

Cas has stood somehow and Dean hasn't even realized he was standing right behind him, or that his hand was on his shoulder. He looks up at him and the affection in Cas' eyes makes Dean's heart pace pick up at once.

The sound of a bell announces dinner and everyone starts to get up to walk to the dining room. 

"Come on kiddos, dinner first and then,  _ if _ Dean is willing, you can play your new game with him," Gadreed announced, picking up Jack from Dean's lap and putting him on his own hip. He nudges Claire until she climbs off Dean too, looking disgruntled.

"Oh, I'm more than willing, I'm looking forward to it," Dean says with a wink at Claire whose face immediately lights up again. Dean stands up as he watches them go, Jack is waving over his dad's shoulder as Gadreel brings them to the kid's own dining room near the nursery. Dean waves back. 

"Jack is a darling, isn't he?" Naomi's voice right next to him. 

"Yeah he is. He reminds me of someone actually," Dean says, passing an arm around Cas' hips and squeezing him closer to his side. "And Claire definitely takes after you," he adds with a smirk. 

Naomi squints at him like she isn't sure if it's supposed to be an insult or compliment. To be honest, Dean isn't sure either. 

"Are you used to children, Dean?" Naomi asks as they sit down at the dining table a couple minutes later. Tonight, it looks like they're eating salmon. Dean is kinda glad it's not cheese again, he can't do that to his body twice in a row. Even his intestines have their limit. 

"Just my little brother."

"Oh, is he much younger than you then?" Anael asks from two places down in front of him. 

"Only four years but-," Dean looks down at his plate. He's not ashamed of his past, he's just not sure if sharing it with this crowd is a good idea. It's Castiel's hand squeezing his thigh that convinces him. Those people have opened their house and family to him, the least he could do is share some of his history too. "My mom died when he was still a baby, and I had to care for him."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Dean," Naomi says. He looks at her and can see nothing but sincerity in the blue of her eyes, so he offers her a small smile in thanks. 

"What about your father, couldn't he have cared for his own child?" Lucifer asks. Like always when Lucifer talks, the bluntness of his tone grates on Dean's nerves. 

"He did. As much as he could among his grief," he says simply. It's only part of the story, but he's not willing to share more. They don't have to know about the alcohol and bar fights and weeks of abandonment. They could never even start to understand what being seven and having to choose between going hungry or listening to your little brother cry for food the whole night through is like. He envies them for it, but doesn't resent them for not knowing what it's like. 

"You must be close to your brother then, having cared so much for him as you were growing up," Hannah notes. 

Dean bites his lips, eyes dropping to his plate to try and hide the surge of emotion the thought brings him. They should be, should they? Sam and him should be inseparable. They would be if Dean hadn't screwed up and chased his brother away. "He lives in California. I haven't seen him in a few years," he says, voice a little strangled. They don't need to know that Sam would never want to see him again anyway. That Dean failed him where he should have been protecting him. 

They seem to understand that the subject is a delicate one, because nobody pushes him anymore, not even Lucifer. Instead, Anael makes a remark about how good the salmon is and they divert their collective attention to something else than Dean's obvious sadness. 

"You okay?" Cas whispers in his ear, passing soft fingers on Dean's clenched fist on the table. 

"Yeah. I'm fine, don't worry," Dean whispers back. Their eyes meet and the tenderness in Castiel's truly does make him feel a little better. 

Dean doesn't miss the way Naomi is looking at them out of the corner of his eyes. She's been acting strangely magnanimous tonight and it's unsettling, if welcomed. 

  
  


************

After dinner, he sits on the ground around the coffee table with the children. Everyone seems to be in a good mood tonight, cozy on the giant couches around the fire. The atmosphere is warm and homey, everyone playing games and laughing. Cas is silent, but seems content to sip on a warm cup tea while watching them all play, tucked under a blanket on the couch, one of his feet brushing against Dean's back. 

Despite all his best efforts to stir the game toward Jack's victory, Claire manages to beat them both more times than Dean's dignity can handle. He ends up giving up and leaving his place in the game to Ruby who seems about as competitive as her cousin. 

Dean has barely squeezed himself on the couch next to Cas when Jack climbs on his lap and asks them for a story. Gabriel, who was chatting with Cas, takes the opportunity to tell them all outrageous, barely PG, stories with such dynamism that all the kids end up piling up on the couch with them to listen. Cas doesn't look upset at the idea of sharing his blanket, even though Crowley does make him spill some of his tea (voluntarily, Dean is sure of it) and Cas has to abandon the rest of it on the coffee table or risk his shirt. 

Soon, Dean is leaning back against the siderest, Jack fast asleep on his chest, Claire squeezed between him and the edge of the couch, and his feet under Cas' thigh. Cas himself has a lap full of Ruby who has snuggled under his blanket and is fighting to keep her eyes open. Crowley has squeezed himself against the other armrest and his oncle, head dropping on Cas' shoulder as he watches his uncle Gabriel mimic some kind of monster from the armchair near the fire.

Around them, the adults are dispersed on the couches. Naomi is reading in one of the armchairs, covered by a fur blanket. Lilith and Anael are chichatting on one of the couches while their husbands are engrossed in an intense game of chess. From the way Michael and Lucifer taunt and glare at each other, Dean understands that Claire isn't the only one that has inherited the Novak competitive spirit. Hannah and Gadreel are cuddled up on another couch, listening to Gabriel's tales and tutting disapprovingly in warning when Gabriel slips up into higher PG territory. The fire is warming up the room, its shadows dancing on the ceiling.

It's peaceful and such a nice moment that tears come to Dean's eyes despite himself. He blinks them away, pretending to put the cover higher on Jack's shoulders to hide his own face behind it. He has a flash of himself, shivering into the backseat of his car and eating cold beans out of a can. How much harder will it be to go back to his miserable life now that he got a taste of what life could actually be, he wonders. He's not eager to find out. 

************

"You're okay? You seem a little maudlin," Cas worries as they're getting ready for bed some time later. 

"I'm fine. Just tired," Dean dismisses, fluffing his pillows and arranging the sheets. It's all very domestic. Surrealist, really. "It was a nice evening."

"It was," Cas agrees, smiling at the shirt he's folding. "The children really seem to like you."

"I like them too, they're good kids," Dean says as he slides his legs under the blanket. 

"The adults are warming up to you too," Castiel notes. He comes to sit on the other side of the bed, back to Dean and not noticing Dean's frown. 

"Lucifer is still acting like a dick."

"That's just how Lucifer _ is _ ," Castiel says, sending a teasing smile over his shoulder before he slides down under his side of the blankets.

"Did you ever give in to the need to punch him in the face?"

"No," Cas snorts, "I did throw a frog at him once though, does that count? He's strangely afraid of frogs."

"I don't know how or if it's ever going to be useful, but I'm glad I know that."

"Sadly, there's no frog in the lake at this time of the year," Castiel says with a knowing look. Dean pouts. And here he was already devising evil plans for revenge.

"He asked me what 'shelter oh--no-sorry  _ town _ ' I grew up in," Dean mimics bitterly. 

"At least he's not comparing you to a rabid street dog anymore."

"No, just a shelter one," Dean notes somberly. 

"I call that progress."

"I call that being a dick."

"Neither of us is wrong," Castiel ponders, his smile so big his gums are showing. 

"What got you into such a positive mood?"

"Like you said, it was a nice evening," Castiel says. He seems to hesitate before he nudges Dean's ankle with his foot under the blanket. "What happened before was also a nice surprise."

"Cheeky," Dean teases, ignoring the way his heart is picking up. "That was definitely a surprise. Could we...not talk about it though?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course," Cas says, sombering up. His brows are furrowed, all traces of his previous joy erased from his face as he fidgets with the blanket. 

"I'm not rejecting you, dumbass," Dean reassures, nudging Cas' ankle back. "I'm just not sure I'm ready to talk about it yet. Is that okay?"

Castiel nods before turning off his bedside lamp and sliding further down the bed. He squeezes the pillow below his head and smiles softly at Dean in the dark. 

"As you wish, Dean."


	5. The whiplash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer and quite a roller coaster, so brace yourself. This is a textbook definition of bittersweet.

************

The next morning, Dean has a moment of panic when he wakes up and realizes they're tangled up around each other again. This time the hard dick is against _ his _ ass, and he nearly jumps away before he realizes that, eh that's kind of okay with him now. It's not just any dick, it's  _ Castiel's _ , and somewhere between last morning and this one, Dean has decided that he liked Cas' dick. What he likes even more though, is seeing Cas' face, so he turns around. Blue eyes meet his, still heavy with sleep and a little apprehensive. Who could blame Cas when Dean himself wasn't sure how he'd react?

"Hello," Dean says softly in the orange light streaming between the curtains. 

"Hello Dean."

They stay like this for a moment, just lying down facing each other and exploring the other's face with their eyes. Cas really has a nice one, and Dean takes the opportunity to watch his fill. There are just far enough that they're not touching, but close enough for him to see the fine lines in the corners of Cas' eyes and that one little speck a shade darker into his left pupil.

There is no one to hear them, yet Castiel whispers like it's a secret, just theirs. "Can I kiss you?"

"No."

The hurt that paints Cas' face is clear, and makes Dean reach out to pass a soft finger on his cheek. 

"I don't want our first kiss to taste like morning breath," he reassures with a small smile. Cas smiles back, obviously relieved. "Give me a sec."

Dean rolls out of bed, landing on his feet and rushing to the bathroom. He's just putting his toothbrush in his mouth when Cas appears at his side. Dean raises an eyebrow and Cas' shrugs, taking his own toothbrush. 

It feels weirdly domestic as they spend a few minutes brushing up before spitting into the sink. Dean finishes first and hover nervously a step behind Cas, feigning interest in the collection of products on the shelf nearby. He raises an eyebrow at a particular bottle. 

"Someone was feeling ambitious," he teases, shaking the bottle of lube so Cas can see it in the mirror. He nearly chokes on toothpaste, his cheeks reddening. Dean cackles. He puts the bottle back as Cas bends forward to spit. This gives him a great view of Cas' ass. Dean's dick twitches in his pants. Their eyes meet in the mirror. Somehow Castiel looks like he  _ knows. _ Dean takes the bottle back with a wink, and goes back to the bedroom. 

"Someone is feeling ambitious," Cas teases as he goes to sit down above the covers, his back against the head of the bed. 

"I guess it depends how good of a kisser you are," Dean answers with a wink. 

"I'm not much of a performer under pressure," Cas says, pursing his lips. 

"I'm sure I'll find a way to help you relax," Dean offers, straddling the other man's legs and leaning his forearms on his shoulders. He scratches the hair behind Cas' neck, enjoying the way the other man shivers in response. Encouraged by that response, he slips his hands into the back of his hair, massaging his scalp. He's wanted to do that for so long. Just, mess up those hair even more. He pulls on a tuft of hair behind Cas' ear and the other man's breath itches, bringing Dean's attention to his mouth. 

His lips are slightly parted and  _ so _ pink. It makes Dean think of an article he read that said the head of a man's dick is the same shade of pink as his lips. It makes him desperate to find out if that's true. 

But first, he leans down and takes his first taste of those lips. It's just a kitten lap, just teasing. It makes Cas' grips his hips harder, one thumb sliding under Dean's shirt and making him shiver. He looks up at Cas' eyes and there is not much blue left, dark pleasure having taken over. Still, Castiel doesn't move, doesn't push him, just wait for what Dean is willing to give him. Dean has the terrifying thought that he could give everything to that man without any hesitation. So he kisses him, for real this time, with no reservations. 

It's different than kissing a woman, and yet the same. Cas' lips are rougher, chapped, but pliant under his. The scratch of stubble on his chin is definitely new, but the idea that it might leave a red mark on his skin is exhilarating. He wants everyone to know what they did. He wants everyone to know that Castiel is  _ his _ . 

Dean links his arm around Cas' neck, sliding closer, as close as he possibly can. He groans at the feeling of Cas dick hardening under him. He moves a little over it, testing the feeling. In response, Cas' hands travel up his back, bringing Dean's shirt with them until it's sent flying across the room. Short nails are immediately scratching along the newly revealed skin and Dean wishes they will leave a mark.

Castiel's mouth tastes fresh, like toothpaste. Dean could stay right here, kiss that man all day long and be content. Cas is eager though, fingers now dancing along the edge of Dean's underwear, asking permission. Dean presses back against them in answer. They don't waste time, immediately sliding underneath the clothes and grabbing the globe of his ass more firmly than any woman ever dared. It lights a fire in Dean, a fire that kisses suddenly aren't enough to quell. 

He's not sure what he wants or needs or is ready for, all he can think about is a litany of Cas' name. He may be chanting it, he's not sure. 

He yelps when he's suddenly thrown to the side, his back barely hitting the mattress before Cas' body is covering him and his mouth devouring him again. 

The feel of cotton against his bare skin is suddenly unbearable and he tears at Cas' shirt. The other man gets the message, taking off all his remaining clothes as Dean wriggles to slide his own underwear off his hips. They're barely reaching his shins before one of Cas feet pushes them the rest of the way off, impatient. Finally naked, Cas falls between his legs. Dean isn't sure what instinct makes him spread them so wantonly, but he can't regret it when it bring Cas that much closer. Close enough that their dicks align perfectly against one another in a delicious slide that makes them both moan. Dean thrusts up, exploring the sensation and makes a noise that Cas stifles with his mouth. 

In the few occasions where Dean might have wonder about sex with another man, he thought it was all about blowjob and buttsex, but this.  _ This  _ is better than he was expecting. Better than he ever imagined.

Cas' closes his hand around them, squeezing them close and Dean nearly screams. 

Why the hell aren't all men  _ doing _ this?? He feels like he should inform everyone because they're all missing out. No one could say no to this, no one could not  _ like  _ this. What the hell is even sexual identity when confronted with something this good? Who the fuck even cares anymore?

"You're still thinking too much," Castiel groans, nibbling Dean's chin. He strokes his hand just a little faster, making Dean buck up. 

"This is awesome," Dean says in wonderment. 

Cas snorts against his throat. "I agree. Do you want...this," Castiel asks, a little coy, just as he adds a twist to his strokes, "or more."

"I want-" Dean bites his lips, at a loss for words. "Everything. Anything. Please."

"Very coherent," Castiel mocks. Dean can feel his smirk against the edge of his jaw. He doesn't even care. What Castiel is doing to him right now is giving him every right to be cocky. 

Cas' hand stops moving, only his thumb circling the slit over the head of Dean's cock, as he ponders what to do next. It's driving Dean crazy. He tries to hump up to get more pressure, but is suddenly met by air. He groans in frustration and opens his eyes, ready to protest, but all words leave him when he sees Castiel sliding further down his body.

"Is that okay?" Cas asks, lips hovering just a little too far from the head of Dean's dick.

"Hell yes." 

He barely has time to see the satisfied smile stretching Cas' lips before they're stretching around his length. Dean throws his head back, fisting the sheets to stop himself from thrusting up. As if sensing the urge, Cas' hands pin his hips down against the mattress. He mouths at Dean's cock, waiting patiently for Dean to look down at him before he swallows him whole in one go. 

"Holy f-," Dean yells. "I thought you were a virgin!" he says, watching in amazement as his dick disappears between those luscious lips. Cas gets off him with an obscene noise, licking his wet lips in a way that makes Dean whimper. 

" _ Technically _ , I am. But I do have experience in some domains," Cas notes before lapping at the little bead coming out of Dean's slit. 

"Some? Dude, you're a pro!"

"Don't call me dude," Castiel reprimands, squeezing the base of Dean's shaft just a little too hard. 

"I'll call you Jesus if you want me to right now, just get on with it."

Cas frowns in that characteric way that precedes a head tilt and nope, they don't have time for this right now, so Dean grabs the back of his head and brings him closer to his crotch. It may be rude, but Cas obeys anyway, swallowing him all at once while pressing his tongue to the underside in just the right way. He only stays for a second before he's getting away all together. Dean wants to scream in frustration, and from the slight raise of his eyebrow, Cas knows it and is teaching him a lesson about manners.

Message received loud and clear. 

Castiel must not be very spiteful though, because he gets back to work a second later. Dean throws his head back, biting his bottom lip to try and stay as quiet as possible. He's never been very loud in the bedroom, has certainly never been a screamer, yet there's a shout in his throat right now that the whole family would probably hear if he dares to let it out. One of Cas' hands is playing with his balls, the other still pining him to the bed. Cas' mouth feels perfect as it slides up and down faster, but it's bringing him closer to the edge that Dean wants to be right now.

"Fuck! Cas, Cas, Cas," Dean says, shaking his head against the pillow. The pleasure is nearly too much, Cas alternating between working him with his tongue and his throat. Dean wants to move, wants to thrust up and up and up. It's everything and yet still not enough. "Please. Cas."

One finger is massaging a point just behind his balls and the sensation feels new, like a shock of electricity going from his balls to his stomach. The finger slides a little further down, toward a yet unexplored place that Dean desperately wants it to touch. Yet as it slides around the rosy pucker, Dean tenses up, eyes opening in shock. His knees rise up at once, Dean's body curling up on his own volition. 

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean says uncontrollably. His heart is suddenly beating in a panic, all his muscles coiled with the need to get away, even though they wanted nothing more than to get closer mere seconds ago. Cas kneels and backs up to leave him some space as Dean sits up against the headboard. "I-I don't think I'm ready for...For that," Dean stutters, surprised at the violence of his own reaction. The reassuring hand Cas puts on one of his knees makes him want to curl up more, but he forces his legs to stay straight on the bed. 

Castiel's eyes are wide in worry. "It's okay, Dean," he reassures. There is such kindness in his eyes, even now, when Dean was expecting frustration or reproach. It instantly relaxes him again. It reminds him of the kind of man Castiel is and why he's even started to want him in the first place. They exchange a small smile as Dean takes a few deep breaths to calm down. 

Dean's eyes slide along Cas' body, taking the time to look at him for the first time. Cas is kneeling in front of him, he's so beautiful and...yeah, it really is the same color as his lips. Dean will probably never look at a man's lips ever again without thinking about that now, he thinks with a snort. 

"You should know that someone laughing while looking at your naked body is not exactly a confidence boost," Castiel remarks dryly. Despite his word, he's smiling, looking more confident that Dean would have expected him to be. Dean has never seen him as self assured and cocky as he's been those last few minutes and he loves it. He loves how confident Castiel is during sex, how he asks permission to touch but doesn't hesitate, how he gives pleasure without any restraint. He loves this side of Castiel, and he loves the fact that he gets to see it. 

Dean extends a hand in invitation and Cas takes it as he slides onto Dean's lap. They exchange a kiss, so languorous that Dean's heart starts to beat faster again, but for a very good reason this time. His hard on, that had started to flag when he freaked out, is starting to come back with enthusiasm. When they separate, Cas nibbles at his own lips, eyes sliding to the side. Dean follows his gaze to the abandoned bottle of lube. 

"You know. I- I think  _ I  _ am ready," he confesses, coy.

Dean chokes on his own saliva, heart nearly jumping out of his chest. It's not reticence this time, not by the way his dick is fully on board again. 

Cas must notice his reaction, because he nods to himself and grabs the little bottle. Dean can only watch in stupefaction as Cas lets some liquid dribble onto his own fingers. He nearly forgets how to breathe when the other man reaches behind himself. Saliva stuck in his throat, Dean watches the way Cas' face contorts as he slides a finger into himself, first with a little discomfort, then bliss. He can see the way Cas' arm moves from the corner of his eyes, but he can't seem to do or say anything.

He's not sure how he ended up here, with a gorgeous man pleasuring himself right in front of him, but Dean wants this moment to last forever. 

Cas' head is thrown back, the long line of his neck exposed, his torso pushed forward, pink nipples harden to two small nubs. His hips are sharp, dancing slightly back and forth with the movement of his arm, back arched and mouth gaping open in pleasure. His dick is engorged, leaning slightly left toward his bellybutton, bobbing gently as Castiel moves. A small pearl of clear liquid is oozing from the tip, and Dean's hungry gaze follows it as it slides down the pink skin, all the way to the base. He licks his own lips, gulping the excess of saliva suddenly in his mouth. 

Dean is so taken by his contemplation, that he startles when Cas grabs one of his hands. He can only blink dumbly as the man brings it behind himself until Dean's finger brushes the wet warmth behind him. Dean inhales deeply, observing the invitation in Cas' eyes before he presses his finger harder, dipping just inside. It's tight, tighter than he was expecting, and yet he feels Cas body squeezing and sucking his finger deeper in. He resists the pull for a second, playing with the rim instead, testing the looseness of it as well as Cas' reaction when he does. The way the other man's eyebrows twitches, nearly a frown, or how Cas bites his lips, making them redder and redder. The invitation is too enticing and Dean catches Cas' bottom lip between his just as his finger pushes deeper inside. He swallows Cas' pants as his finger starts to move faster and faster, soon joined by another one. The muscle stretches easily as they continue to kiss, Castiel's hips following the rhythm of Dean's fingers, sliding up and down on his lap. When Dean adds a third finger, Cas pushes his mouth away with a whimper, taking big gulps of breath, hips trembling. Dean's mouth latches onto his throat instead, at the line just under the scruff of his beard, nibbling to stop himself from biting into the flesh. 

"Now. Please, I can't- I need-," Castiel pants. 

Dean groans in answer, grabbing the lube and letting some dribble on his member, barely flinching at the coldness of it. He stops when he puts a hand on himself though, frowning in doubt. 

"Did you feel ambitious enough to bring condoms?" he asks hesitantly. Cas suddenly looks so devastated that it would be funny if Dean didn't feel the same. "I mean...I give my blood a lot and they would have told me if-" Dean says. He's not going to confess that he mostly gives his blood for the free sandwich after, but maybe that good action will bring him more than a meal after all (outside of, you know, the lives it may be saving) "But I get it if you don't want to," he adds when he sees the hesitation on Cas' face. 

"I'm clean too. I...I want to feel you," Cas says, nearly whines. Dean can't help himself, he grabs the back of his head to pull him forward for a kiss. 

Dean strokes his own cock a few times, spreading a generous amount of lube, as they breathe against each other's mouth, too taken by desire to do more than that. Dean breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against the other man's. 

"I want to feel you too," he confesses. "So badly it's driving me crazy."

"Then take me," Cas croakes in his ear. Dean doesn't waste any time obeying him, swinging them to the side until Cas is under him, legs wrapped around his hips. Dean guides his dick and  _ pushes _ . They both groan in unison when he breaches the tight muscle and the head of his dick is suddenly engulfed in heat. Castiel's body is squeezing him so tightly that Dean has to pause every few millimeters. He's going as slowly as he can. The last thing he wants is to hurt Cas.

With a frustrated groan, Cas' hand slides along his back until it lodges in his hair. He pulls on them so brusquely that Dean jumps, his hips snapping forward and he shouts as he bottoms out. His balls are against Cas' ass, tight heat massaging him from the inside and Dean is sure for a second that he's going to come right this instant. Cas pulls on his hair again, bringing Dean's face against his neck so he can nibble on his ear. Dean pants against Castiel's skin, letting them both adjust and calm down for an instant. When he starts to move, it's barely an inch at a time, careful and unhurried. Impatient, Castiel is trying to urge him on. His hands are on Dean's ass, trying to push and make him move faster. Dean resists, tutting the other man when he grunts his frustration and staying in control of the pace. Slowly, Dean's thrusts become longer, more confident. Mouth going slack, Cas finally seems to relax after a while. Dean smirks to himself as he gets nearly out and slaps his hips forward at once, making the other man shouts in surprise and pleasure. Cas bites his ear in retaliation, but his legs come up to squeeze harder around Dean. 

The harder Dean thrusts, the more Cas' nails dig into his shoulders, to the point that he's sure he'll have crescent little marks on his skin when it's all over. He doesn't mind. He likes it. He raises up on his arms, finding a new angle that makes Cas moan so loudly that Dean has to kiss him to shut him up. 

He's thrusting hard and fast now, Cas' hips erratically moving against him, the sound of their skin slapping so loud that surely the whole country must be hearing it. He doesn't care, too lost in his pleasure to see anything but Cas' face. He feels one of Cas' hand slide between them, brush his stomach as Cas brings himself to a peak that he reaches in only a few strokes. The other man comes with a long moan that makes Dean grind deeper inside him. Dean squeezes Cas' hips harder, biting his own lips as he tries to starve off his own orgasm, to resist the sharp call of pleasure Cas' body suddenly clenching and releasing around him is bringing him. He fights to keep his eyes open too, he doesn't want to miss a second of watching Cas come. As soon as Castiel opens his eyes, blue clouded by ecstasy, Dean is lost too, spilling into his partner's body with a shout of his name. 

They pants against each other's cheeks as Dean rides high in a series of erratic thrusts. When his muscles finally uncoil, Dean barely catches himself from crushing Cas. He tries to slide to the side, but Castiel's legs squeeze a little harder around his hips, keeping him in place, keeping him inside as his spent dick twitches with the last spill of his orgasm. Unable to get away with the other man wrapped around him, Dean rests his cheek against his collarbone, panting into his neck. 

Castiel's legs only release him when Dean's dick is soft enough that it slides out of him, a gush of hot come following. Dean slides to the side, but keeps a hand on Castiel's thigh to keep his legs spread. He kisses a trail over Cas' ribs, as he slides two fingers against the burning place down under, catching the leaking fluid and pushing it back in. Castiel groans in approval, pushing back against Dean's fingers until they seal his entrance, slightly massaging it. The skin there is hot and swollen, and Dean has the fleeting idea of soothing it with his mouth. Cas' hand grabs his hair, pulling him up until their mouths can meet again, and Dean drinks the other man's pants as their heartbeat slowly calms down. 

"Breakfast in twenty!" Ruby's voice suddenly interrupts with a hard knock against the door. 

They both jump away from each other, before they break out laughing. Cas curls up against him, nose pushing under his chin, and Dean wraps his arms around him.

It doesn't feel weird somehow, to be hugging another man like that. 

It feels just right. 

  
  


************

Naomi's eyes don't leave them during breakfast, and Dean's cheeks burn with the unreasonable thought that she somehow knows what they've been doing before breakfast. Maybe she does, they haven't exactly been good at keeping quiet. 

They've got a hike up the mountain planned today, followed by a picnic at a vineyard and an early afternoon at the hot springs before they walk back. Dean wonders if he could get away with feeling sick again, just to keep Castiel all to himself for the day. He has some interesting ideas of how they could pass the time...

Jack and Claire latch onto him as soon as they see him though, and they look so eager to spend the day with him, that he can't bring himself to disappoint them.

Cas and him share a backpack and it somehow feels more intimate than what they did in the early morning. Castiel lends him a swimsuit because Dean can't exactly go commando into the springs in front of the whole Novak family. Cas shoves a hat on Dean's head and a pair of gloves in his pocket, shutting off his protest with a kiss. They pack their bag as fast as they can after that, so they have some leftover time to make out before they have to go. 

The trail is easy enough, not as steep as Dean was expecting. Only the toddlers stayed with one of the nannies, the four oldest coming with them for the day. They run all around for the first mile, then start dragging their feet and complaining, so Dean tries to distract them by inventing games to play on the way. 

He and Gabriel are currently trying to find the most ridiculous challenges to ask them. Ruby and Claire are very competitive, trying to one up one another by running the fastest or jumping the highest or finding the biggest rock or biggest leaf. Jack lost interest in the game a while ago, sitting on Gadreel's shoulders instead. Crowley's eyes are stuck on his Nintendo Switch. It's a miracle he hasn't stumbled and fallen yet.

The sky is a little cloudy, but there is no wind, so they warm up easily by walking. Castiel has been talking to Michael for a while, staying a little behind Dean, Gabriel, and the kids. Anael and Lilith are chatting with Gadreel, Hannah has stayed home for the day again. Lucifer and Naomi are leading the way. 

Dean smiles happily when Castiel appears beside him and takes his hand. He feels like a teenager with his first crush, butterflies in his stomach and wanting to make out for hours. He swings their hands like an idiot and Cas rolls his eyes. He's laughing though, eyes shining and gums showing. Dean can't help but think he's beautiful. 

They're both wearing gloves, scarfs up to their chins and hats to their forehead. Cas is wearing a sporty ski coat with blue stripes on the side while Dean wears a green puffy jacket that he bought with the money from the engagement's party. Dean mocks him when Cas puts on a huge pair of ski sunglasses with multicolor reflective glasses, teasing him about his fashion sense...or the lack of it, more like. 

"So, what's up with the picnic in freezing temperatures?" Dean asks after a few minutes of walking in silence.

Cas laughs a little to himself. "That's entirely Gabriel's fault."

Gabriel's head perks up a few steps in front of them and he stops walking, only starting again when they're by his side. Michael appears on their other side. 

"I knew this would happen," Gabriel says when Dean looks at the brothers with a raised eyebrow, a little confused by everyone's sudden interest. "I will not let them defile my name," Gabriel accuses, pointing at Michael and Castiel who snort in answer. 

"That sounds like a story I want to hear," Dean says with a smirk. 

Cas looks from one of his brothers to the other. Michael and Gabriel are glaring at each other, but it seems teasing and defying, with no real heat behind it. Cas rolls his eyes when neither of his brothers start talking. 

"We've been coming here since we were kids," he starts explaining. "My father used to be the one to plan those trips but-" Cas stops himself, casting his eyes down with a regretful expression. 

"Once he was gone," Gabriel says, bumping his shoulder against Cas and offering him a small smile before he goes back to fake glaring at his other brother, " _ someone _ decided that he should be the new boss of those trips," he accuses. 

"Yeah, someone was trying to take charge so everyone could have a good time," Michael points out. "But then someone _ else  _ threw a fit because he wanted to do jet ski  _ in November _ ." 

"I was fourteen you dumbass, visiting a goat cheese factory wasn't what I would qualify as having a good time!"

Cas chuckles fondly before cutting them off. "Long story short, Gabriel hijacked Michael's plans by cancelling reservations and conning the staff into preparing us a picnic."

"I love picnics," Gabriel shrugs, non repentant. 

"It was 34 degrees!" Michael accuses. 

"And we had a lovely time," Gabriel affirms. 

"We all ended up with the flu," Cas tells Dean. 

"And yet, this stubborn ass refused to admit it was a bad idea," Michael grunts. 

"Because it wasn't!" Gabriel defends. 

"There was stubbornness all around. For a whole  _ year _ ," Cas sighs, shaking his head at the memory. 

"Okay…," Dean says, frowning. "But how does that end up with us having a picnic in the middle of autumn  _ this  _ year?"

"Because he still refuses to admit that it's a bad idea!" Michael says, like it makes sense and is not the result of a stubbornness so strong that a whole family ends up freezing their asses off every year for nearly two decades. 

"Oh, come on, admit it, you all love those picnics!"

"I once ended up with frostbite  _ on my ass _ ," Michael scowled, making everyone puffs out laughing. 

"I'm surprised Naomi hasn't put a stop to this," Dean says, genuinely intrigued. 

"Oh she hates it," Gabriel confirms with a smirk. 

"She  _ loves _ family tradition though," Cas says regretfully. He doesn't seem that fond of this one. 

"And she knows I'm right and is waiting for Gabriel to finally admit he's an idiot," Michael insists, petulant.

Dean can't help but smile at the brothers' rivalry. It reminds him of his relationship with Sam. His little brother was very stubborn, and they had more than one ridiculous contest like this one. He wonders if some of them would have lasted if they were still talking those days. Sam never copped to the mysterious disappearance of Dean's favorite edition of Busty Asian Beauties after all. Thinking about this makes him feel a little maudlin, but it's hard to stay sad when the three brothers keep bantering good humoredly for the next half hour. 

They arrive at a clearing just before midday, Lucifer praising himself on his planning. Two staff, along with a nanny, came with them and they start laying out blankets and food. It's not any kind of picnic Dean has ever been at, the meal more elaborate than what he eats on a good day. He doesn't say anything though, just chooses the spot with the best view of the mountains around and valley below. The grass is a little damp from the cold, but the blanket is thick under his knees, and he has another one on his lap, so that's not so bad. Jack immediately joins them. As much as Dean loves the kid, he was kinda hoping for a romantic picnic and wants to do some things to his uncle that the little boy definitely should not see. He still amuses the kid for ten minutes by trying to catch the little bite of food Jack throws at him, aiming at his mouth. Of course, that means that soon, all the kids (and Gabriel) are just throwing food at his face. He might end up with weird things in his hair, but they all have a good laugh out of it.

It's Lilith who ends up putting her foot down, and urging the nanny to gather the kids so they can eat in an appropriate manner. Gabriel rolls his eyes behind her back to mock her, but leaves too to go eat with Gadreel. 

Finally alone, Dean lies down with his head on Cas' lap. 

"You should eat something more," Castiel says, passing a hand through Dean's hair. 

"They just fed me a whole jar of olives, I think my stomach needs a break," Dean complains, pushing a little against Cas' hand when it looks like he's going to stop his caress. To be honest, he was probably picking bits of food out of it more than caressing his hair, but still, it felt good. Cas rolls his eyes fondly, eating from his plate with one hand while he continues to play with Dean's hair with the other. 

It doesn't take long for Dean to fall asleep to the sound of children laughing, and the low voices chattering all around. He's feeling a peace he hasn't known in a long long time and it makes him dream about that summer they stayed at that motel with the pool. He can still feel the sun on his skin as he was floating on his back. He can hear Sam's tiny voice as he read Dean a story from the poolside, voice chopped because he was still learning. Dean can still hear the pat pat of Sam's feet dangling in the water, kicking a little harder in frustration when he couldn't get a word right. His dad was away for a whole month that time, and the motel clerk, Missouri, always brought them ice cream and snacks. They loved Missouri. She was kind and had a raucous laugh that they could hear even from three doors down. It made Dean feel less alone to hear her laugh at her sitcoms in the middle of the night. 

Cas wakes him up just in time for pie, bless him, and Dean eats a piece of each kind under the disapproving look of the adults and the giggling of the kids. There are four kinds of pies and they all taste delicious. 

After lunch, the nanny and the kids turn around to go back to the ressort while the rest of the party walks to the winery. Lucifer asks Castiel to walk with him and Dean watches him go with regret. He regrets it even more when Naomi starts walking by his side. 

"You and Castiel seem in particularly good spirits today," she points out in a tone he can't quite identify. 

"We're having a good time, yes," Dean confirms. "It's a beautiful day," he adds, trying to talk about the weather to avoid any touchy subject. 

"I've never seen Castiel smile quite as much as he does when he's with you," she confesses after a silence. 

Dean's heart is suddenly in his throat. He wasn't expecting her to be so sincere. "I love to see him smile too."

She observes him for a moment before she nods. They continue to walk in silence, but Dean feels like they've somehow found some kind of truce. 

They sip at wines for a while and have pompous talks about vintage and grape harvest and such. Dean can't really see the difference between this wine or any others, but he nods along and lets the alcohol warm his stomach. He bids his time until he sees the opportunity to kidnap Castiel, and they end up making out between two rows of wine barrels. 

"Found them!" Gabriel interrupts by yelling just beside them. "I owe you ten bucks, Anael! I was wrong, they still have their pants on."

Naomi looks highly disapproving when they drag their feet back to the group. She apologizes repeatedly to the tenant for their shameful behavior and scolds them about appropriateness all the way to the springs. Dean thinks he sees a glint of laughter in her eyes though. Of course, Lucifer makes some comments comparing Dean to an uneducated dog in rut, but Naomi is in such a mood that she immediately shuts him up. Dean feels like sticking his tongue to Lucifer when he sees the way he's miffed by it.

Naomi doesn't let them change in the same cabin like the other couples, which is a bummer, but maybe a tiny bit understandable. 

They still make out in the hot springs, until Dean gets a flashback of their time in the jacuzzi that forces him to stop before it becomes really indecent. Especially when he can feel Cas' mother's eyes glaring a hole into the back of his head, as well as Michael's creepy gaze. They end up chatting with Anael and Lilith instead as they soak in the warm water. Lilith is unsympathetic, but Dean likes Anael well enough, even if she sounds a little too religious for his liking. 

All in all, it's a very good day. The best Dean has had in the whole year, probably longer. By midafternoon, they all start to walk back at a more leisurely pace, all exhausted by their day, muscles relaxed from the springs, and bellies full of good food and wine. Jeez, rich people really are living the best life, aren't they? 

They arrive at the resort just as the sun is setting down...which isn't that late in November. Everyone gets inside, but Dean holds Cas back. The view is beautiful and they're going home tomorrow morning, Dean wants to enjoy it a little longer. 

They go to the garden and share a lounge chair. Cas lies between Dean's legs as they watch the sun set over the lake. It's getting cold, but they keep each other warm, nestled against one another as they are. It's peaceful and all kind of perfect and Dean doesn't want to let this moment go. The sun is already long gone when Cas looks at the time and realizes dinner will be in half an hour. He snuggles a little deeper against Dean for a second, moaning about having to move and go take a shower. 

"We should share the shower, it would go faster," Dean offers with a cocky smile. 

"Will it?" Cas' eyebrow is dubious, but there is a smile on his lips that Dean can't help but kiss. They get a little carried away and Cas has to push him away. "Only twenty minutes left now," he reminds, feinting reproach. 

They're nearly at the stairs when Michael appears and asks them to follow him. He turns around and walks away without waiting for them. They exchange looks, half-disappointed that they won't get to fool around in the shower, half-worried about Michael's tone. 

Michael leads them to some kind of office. Lucifer is sitting behind a gigantic mahogany desk, still in his hiking clothes. They all are, Dean notices, like they've been here since they got back. Naomi is standing at the window behind Lucifer, looking over the lake with a somber air. Dean wonders if she could see them in the garden from there. She's clutching a piece of paper so hard that she's crumbling it. This tiny display of Naomi's upset mood worries Dean more than anything else. 

"What's going on?" Cas asks, looking alarmed. 

The deep breath that Naomi takes is the only thing that answers them for a moment. Michael is standing next to Lucifer now, hands behind his back and standing straight. When Cas' mom turns toward them, her stare is colder than Dean's ever seen and lands right on him. 

"Lucifer just received some new information than we wish to share with you, Castiel."

"What kind of information?"

"About your new pet," Lucifer says. His tone is as viscous as the glare he puts on Dean. 

Cas, bless his heart, takes a protective step closer to Dean. 

"I don't know what this is about, but I do not wish to hear it, and I don't appreciate you making this kind of inquiry in the first place," Castiel defends. 

"This is important, Castiel. No matter the context or reason we took knowledge of it, we can't ignore it now." Michael says, gentlier. 

Dean's heart is lodged in his throat. Cas tries to take his hand, but Dean doesn't squeeze it back. Somehow, it's even more hurtful to see Cas trying to grab onto some undeserved loyalty toward him. It reminds him that, in the end, this is all fake and Cas doesn't know anything about him. There are a great number of things they could have learnt about Dean and, whatever it is, Castiel would be none the wiser. 

It's unavoidable, has always been really. All Dean can do is hold his chin high, and look straight at them as he waits for the hits to come. 

"Did you know your _ friend _ is a criminal?" Lucifer hisses.

"What?" The shock in Castiel's voice, the sheer disbelief, makes Dean flinch. 

"I'm sorry, Castiel, but it's true," Michael confirms. "He's a thief, with more than one violent charges against him."

Castiel turns to him, but Dean can't meet his eyes. 

"Is this true?" he asks, his voice nearly a whisper, begging him to deny it. 

Dean wants to. He wants to explain. He wants to tell him what they call a 'thief' was a kid stealing food to feed his starving little brother. He wants to explain how those fights he got in were because he couldn't let his drunk dad get the shit beaten out of him after mouthing off one too many times. But, would that really change anything? Does having good reasons make him less of a criminal? Make him worthy of sharing bread with the Novaks? Make him worthy of Castiel?

His silence and locked jaw seem to be answer enough, and Castiel crumbles onto the nearest chair. 

"We know you care about Dean, Castiel," Naomi intervenes, "but this is simply unacceptable."

"How could you bring such a vile character here, Castiel? Let him sit at our table? Play with our children!" Lucifer accuses, raising up, hands fisted on the desk in front of him. 

Dean wants to punch Lucifer for insinuating that he would ever hurt children...but that would just prove his point about Dean being dangerous, so he just squeezes his fists and tries to calm his breath instead. 

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Naomi defies, her cold blue eyes staring at him with such contempt that he can't hold her gaze. 

"No, ma'am. The information you have is correct. I won't try to deny it."

"Good. You've deceived us enough as it is," she spits back, lips pinched. 

Castiel makes a tiny noise, nearly a whimper. They have no idea how much Dean has  _ really  _ deceived them. Cas knows though. He knows how good Dean is at lying. 

"Ketch will drive you to the train station tonight. He'll buy you a ticket back to Lawrence. We never want to see you again after that, is that clear?" Naomi orders. 

Dean nods, his eyes not leaving Cas. The other man has a hand at his mouth in shock, eyes scanning left to right in the direction of the ground as he tries to figure everything out. In how many more ways could Dean have deceived him? 

"Of course, ma'am. I'm sorry my past is so disappointing to you," Dean says regretfully. "I'll go pack now."

Dean turns around without meeting anyone's eyes. 

************

Dean is not sure how long he's been sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes lost in the vague as he processes everything that just happened, when the door opens. Cas enters just enough to close it behind his back. He looks as dazed as Dean feels, caught by the whiplash of going from a perfect day straight into a nightmare. 

"Ketch has the car waiting, if you're ready," Cas says, deadpanned. 

"Cas…," Dean starts, not knowing what to say. He feels like he should apologize, and like he did nothing wrong at the same time. He's still the same man that was holding Castiel in his arms less than an hour ago. He's also the stranger that Cas embarked into this whole masquerade without seeming to care about his past. Dean never told him about being homeless or having a criminal record, but Castiel never asked either. Is Dean such a usurper, or was Cas never interested in the truth in the first place?

"Here," Cas says. Dean blinks at the envelope he's handling him. "That's everything I owe you."

Dean scoffs. "Is it?"

Castiel squints in that confused way he has, but Dean doesn't have the energy to be philosophical right now. When he notices that Dean is not moving to grab the envelope, he goes to Dean's backpack and shoves it inside. 

"I'm sorry it's ending the way it is," Cas says, voice still too neutral. "My mother is right though, this is unacceptable. I was careless bringing you here. This whole deal was madness in the first place," Cas continues. He pauses for a second. "It makes me wonder if any of it was ever real," he admits, lower. 

"Of course it was," Dean objects, raising up and taking a step closer. He stops when he sees Cas flinch. " _ We _ were," he insists. "How can you even doubt me like this?" he asks, voice breaking. Is that how Cas sees him now? Like a con man with no emotion, manipulating him with no feelings what's so ever. He only realizes his vision is getting blurry when a hand on his cheek makes him blink the tears out of his eyes to see Cas standing right in front of him. 

"I believe you, Dean," Cas confesses. He sounds relieved too, like he needed proof that it wasn't just a lie, like he needed Dean to say it. It makes hope burn in Dean's heart, but it's short-lived since Cas takes a step back, letting his hand drop away from Dean's face. "Sadly, it doesn't change anything. My family will never accept you now."

Cas sniffles, eyes red, as he struggles to hold the tears back.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean says. "I never meant to-"

"I know," Cas interrupts him. "Of course I know that. It was all my fault. I'm sorry I ever caused you any wrong. You're a good man, Dean. No matter your past actions, I know that in my heart," he swears. "I won't regret those days with you, I never could," he adds, shaking his head. Like he can't stop himself, he cradles Dean's face again, pushing their forehead against one another. 

Dean craves more, always so much more with Castiel. He grabs the back of Castiel's neck, trying to keep him close for as long as he can. ”Come with me," Dean whispers in the small space between their mouths. 

"What?" Cas gasps, backing just enough to search his gaze. 

Dean slides one hand on his cheek, pushing away a tear rolling there. "Come with me, Cas. Who cares what they think, who cares what anybody think?" Dean asks, begs really, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to spend the rest of his life regretting not having the guts to fight for this, for Cas. 

Cas shakes his head, the move chasing away Dean's hands from his skin. "I can't," he says, looking broken. He takes a step back, then another. Dean grabs his hands so he can't get farther away. "They're my family, Dean, I can't just-" he looks devastated, shaking his head as he looks down at their joined hands. 

"They're a bunch of bigoted assholes, who ca-"

"Don't say that," Castiel stops him. "You don't know them, Dean."

"I know them well enough to say that they don't deserve you. Please, Cas, we can go away together, drive south until you have to shed that stupid trenchcoat, until you can be free of them." 

Dean stops talking when he meets Cas' stare. There is a hardness in it that Dean wasn't expecting. A coldness that makes him realize he's lost Cas, before the other man even pushes his hands away and takes a step back. 

"I think you should go," Cas says, face closed. 

"Cas…"

"I mean it, Dean. You're asking me to choose between you or my family," Castiel says defiantly, eyes staring at a point just over Dean's ear. "Well, I'm making my choice," he adds, voice emotionless. 

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but how can he? Castiel's words are clear. How could he ever choose Dean over his family? Dean doesn't deserve him. Dean was a fool to think, even for a second, that he could have something this good in his life. 

The irony is clear to him now. He was the one to put clear lines between them at the start, to swear against that damned pretend boyfriend trope, yet in the end, he was the one that got lost in the game. This is no movie. Bums like him don't end up with the prince. Cas enjoyed the fun they had together, but asking him for more than that is delusional. 

Naomi knew it from the start. Lucifer knew it. Probably everyone else too. And now, confronting him with an impossible choice, Dean just made Cas realize it too. There is no future for them. They don't even live in the same worlds. 

There is no place for Dean here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to tell me what you feel about this chapter in the comments. Or scream at me.


	6. The life you get

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long (but essential) one. I hope you'll like it^^

************

"You're really gonna burn all that cash on booze?" Benny asks with a sigh as he refills Dean's glass. The bar around them is empty. Dean has no idea if it's from a lack of clients or if Benny has already closed up. What hour is it? "I mean, as the owner of this fine establishment, I'm all for it, but as a friend-"

"We're not friends," Dean corrects, downing his glass in one go and signaling for more. I have no friends, he wants to say, no family anymore,  _ no one. _ How pathetic would it be to admit that out loud? He scoffs at the thought. Probably as pathetic as spending his days drinking like he has been ever since he came back from Vermont. Just as pathetic as he always thought his dad was, he can't help but think. 

He can feel Benny's gaze on him. He doesn't raise his eyes from his glass to check if he's glaring or worried, or maybe hurt. In truth, Benny has been the closest thing he's had to a friend those last few months. He's certainly been the only one trying to help him. He gave him free food, shelter against the colder days and a bathroom to use when needed. That's certainly more friendly than anyone has ever been since he had to start living in his car about ten months ago

Dean blinks out of his somber thoughts some time later, when a plate of food is put under his nose. 

"At least eat something, I don't want you puking in my bathroom again."

"I'm not hungry," Dean growls, pushing his empty glass toward the bartender to signal he wants a refill. 

"Sorry, brother, but I'm gonna have to cut you off then."

"Fuck you," Dean spits. "I'll just go drink somewhere else."

"I doubt you even make it off of that stool after everything you've had, cher," Benny sighs, shaking his head. 

"Watch me," Dean dares. He slides off the stool and his legs immediately decide to give up on him. He sprawls on the floor, hitting his chin over the counter on the way down and biting his tongue. 

"Stellar view," Benny mocks. He still rushes around the bar to help him up, dragging him to a leather booth in the corner. Blood is trickling on the table in front of Dean, he's not sure if it's his chin or tongue that is bleeding. Probably both. He flinches when Benny pushes a dishcloth full of ice against his face. "You can sleep here tonight, but I want you gone by seven," Benny warns as Dean falls sideways to curl up on the bench. His head is spinning, or is it the room around him that is? The bartender slides the compress of ice under his head. Dean had closed his eyes, already falling asleep when a hand on his backside startles him. He tries to raise up, but the move is too sudden and he ends up barfing on the ground instead. "You're a mess," Benny says, like Dean doesn't realize it. Dean side-eyes him in answer, glaring harder when he notices Benny is holding the envelope full of money. Cas' money.

"That's my money," he grumbles. He wants to protest, gets it back, but he's too drunk to care, and too exhausted to move. 

"Consider me as your new bank then. I'm not giving any of it back until you decide to stop acting like an idiot," Benny explains, putting the envelope in his own back pocket. Dean mumbles something in answer, he's not even sure what. "In the meantime, that's staying in my safe."

"Fuck you," Dean says, spitting on the ground to try and get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. 

Benny stares at him for a second before he takes the envelope out again and pulls a bill out of it. "That's your cleaning and lodging fee," Benny announces, brandishing a bill. "Now shut up and sleep."

************

When he wakes up the next morning, he kind of wishes he hadn't. Every single milliliter of his body hurt from the combination of an awful bender and a night sleeping on a hard booth. He works his jaw for a second until it cracks in a satisfying, yet hurtful way. He wonders why it hurts so much until he remembers falling from his stool. 

Shit, his money!

By the time Benny arrives, Dean has already searched his whole office and half the bar, but he can't find his cash anywhere. 

"Give it back to me," he spits as soon as Benny appears at the back entrance. 

"Told you, the bank only allows non-idiotic withdrawal," Benny says, sidestepping him on his way to his office. He sighs when he sees the state of it. Papers are on the ground, and all the drawers are open. 

"Where is it?"

"You didn't need to make a mess, I would have told you," Benny shrugs. He pulls on the corner of a poster, revealing a safe. "It's safe and waiting for you. I won't touch it, brother."

Dean rushes to the safe, looking at it like he might find a simple 'open' button. Of course, there is a digital keypad instead. 

"Give it back!"

"Nope," Benny shrugs. Dean takes a menacing step toward him, and the bartender raises an eyebrow, amused and challenging at the same time. Dean deflates. He has no chance to intimidate, let alone win a fight against Benny, especially when his legs are still shaking from three days of booze and no food. 

"You know what? You keep it," Dean spits. "I don't want his freaking money anyway."

"Like I said, it will be right here when you do," Benny explains. "Now get the fuck out of my bar."

  
  


************

Dean spends an hour wandering the streets. He can't remember where he parked the Impala. His heart is beating faster and faster as panic starts to set in. He's already checked most of the usual spots he usually parks her and  _ he can't find her _ . He needs to move her every two days or the cops take his Baby to the impound. It's happened before and fuck, everything he owns is in that car. It's the only thing he has left. 

He turns into an alley, heart and head pounding. His legs are shaking so hard that he can barely stand anymore and slide until he's squatting with his back against the wall. He feels like throwing up again. He can't remember if he even moved the car or not. He can't lose his Baby. It's his home, it's- he can't lose her.

He pulls on his hair as he shakes, swallowing around the sob lodged in his throat. 

He doesn't know what to do anymore. 

************

By the time Dean reaches the Salvage Yard where the cops told him Baby was, he can't feel his feet anymore. He has been squeezing his arms around him for so long in an effort to keep himself warm that he's not sure he can unlock them again. His hair is drenched from the snow that has been falling heavily for the last four miles. It took him two days to walk here. It's only twelve miles from Benny's, but he had no money left and the ground is frozen solid. He also had to make a two miles detour to the soup kitchen because he felt so weak he was seeing spots. 

It's night already, but it's November, so who knows what hour it actually is. His watch isn't on his wrist anymore so someone must have stolen it off his drunk ass at some point. He slept at a truck stop last night, huddled in a bathroom stall, and he had no idea what hour it was when he woke up either. He just got up and started to walk. 

His Baby is everything. All he has to do is find her and he'll have a place to sleep. It's his home. He still has some canned food in the truck and some bottles of water. There might still be a few bucks from Castiel's first payment in the glove box as well. Not much, he used up most of that to buy winter clothes, gas and food, but maybe enough that he can get by for a couple days. 

He can't wait to change clothes. He still has some vomit from two nights ago on the front of his shirt, and he can't remember when he changed or washed up before that. He did his best with the hand soap at the truck stop, but there is only so much he can do when he has to put back on the same dirty clothes after. 

Dean pauses when he notices the metal gate of the Salvage Yard is closed. He pushes on his frozen tiptoes to peak above it. All the lights in the main house a little further up are turned off.

"No no no," Dean mumbles to himself, desperate. 

He looks around, but this place is outside of town, he has seen nothing but trees for two miles. There isn't any street lamp, just the light from the gate. He can't see much of anything anymore. When he turns to look back the way he came, all he sees are grey flakes of snow blurring his vision, and dark. There is no bell to ring to warn of his presence and no side entrance. 

Not knowing what else to do, he walks along the edge of the wire mesh, trying to look through it for a peek of his Baby. He's halfway around the property, ankle buried in snow and mud when he finally sees her. It immediately appeases something deep inside him. It only lasts for a second though, before it's replaced with fear. He was so focused on finding his car that he didn't allow himself to think this through. 

Now, he's having the sudden realization that he might not last the night out there. 

All he's had in four days has been alcohol and a bowl of soup. He's exhausted and the temperature is below freezing. For the first time of his homeless life, he realizes that this fucked up life might actually kill him. 

He's looking around, searching for anything that might shelter him from the snow or help him get warm, when he notices a bent corner in the metal mesh. He hurries to it. His cold fingers can barely move, not feeling anything as he grabs the mesh and pulls as hard as he can. He manages to part it just enough that he can crawl under it, snow soaking his already ruined clothes. He doesn't care, heart beating fast in hope and barely feeling the mesh tearing through his skin as he pushes under it. 

He gets up, triomphant, and nearly falls back on his ass, winded. He goes to his Baby with a relieved smile, pushing the snow away from her bumper so he can take a good look at her. If he can get inside, he'll be able to change out of his wet clothes and bury himself under a pile of blankets. He'll still be cold, but he might survive this night after all. 

He's scratching at the frosted window to try and peek inside, make sure that his stuff is still there, when a growl from behind him makes him tense up. He gulps, raising slowly and turning around. Two german shepards as big as horses are a few feet in front of him, showing their teeth and foaming at the mouth. One of them barks aggressively and, yeah, Dean is definitely going to die tonight. Who knew he would end up this way. Well, the dogs are a surprise, at least. 

He puts a hand defensively over his face when he's suddenly blinded by a bright light. 

"Get the fuck out of my property before I shoot your ass full of lead," a gruff voice calls. Dean tries to look up, but can't see much, barely the shadow of a baseball cap, behind the lamp torch pointed straight at him. 

"No offense, but I'm more worried about the dogs," he says, sending a worried look to one of the dogs who seems even closer than a minute ago, teeth still barred. 

"What are you doing here?"

Dean points at the car behind him with one of his hands, making sure to make no sudden move and keeping them above his head. "That's my car."

"That's no one's car until I see official papers and some cash," the man dismisses. "Now you either get out of my property or I'm calling the cops, is that clear?"

Dean sends a dejected look at his Baby. He can't leave her behind. He has nowhere to go. "I-I just need to take a few things from the trunk." Maybe if he grabs a few blankets and some food, he can survive the night under a tree or something.

"That's not an option." One of the dogs barks again, jumping a step forward and clacking his teeth, making Dean bumps back against the car. He gulps, looking from the beast to the way he just came from. 

"I-," he hesitates. He feels like crying. He's never felt so desperate before, so hopeless, so scared for his own life. "The cops, then," he says, sniffing. He hopes that guy will believe it's just because of the cold, he'd like to at least keep the tiny bit of dignity he has left by not sobbing in front of a stranger. 

The other man seems surprised by Dean's answer. He lowers his gun, the light finally leaving Dean's face so that he can blink against the dark spot in his vision until he gets his first look at the man standing a few feet away. He's about sixty with a beard and a round belly, a baseball cap on his head and a truck vest over plaid. He's observing Dean from head to toes with a frown, like he doesn't know what to make of him. His shotgun is pointed at the ground, but the two dogs are still growling so Dean keeps his hands in the air. 

After what feels like an eternity, the man sighs like he's already regretting whatever decision's he just took. "Come on, let's get back to the house, I'm freezing my balls off," he says. To Dean's surprise, he turns around and starts walking. The dogs instantly relax and go running upfront. Dean watches them go, dazed "You coming or you need a special invitation, princess?" the man calls over his shoulders. Dean rushes to follow. 

Dean's skin started burning as soon as they enter the house. He's been freezing for so long that the heat hurts against his frozen skin. The man points at a chair with his shotgun and Dean obeys, sitting at the kitchen table. 

"Daisy, keep an eye on him," he says to one of the dogs before he disappears up the stairs. The other dog, the bigger one, stayed outside. Dean eyes this one cautiously, not daring to move. He's worried that the beast will take his shivers for an attempt to move, he's shaking so hard his teeth are clacking. The man comes back and throws a towel on Dean's lap. "What kind of idjit stay outside in this weather?"

Dean only shrugs in answer, trying to dry his hair. He can barely lift his arms and it's useless anyway. What good is dry hair when everything else is soaked? He drops the towel on the table and opens the zipper of his coat. He struggles to do it because there is no sensation left in his fingers, the skin numb and yet burning at the same time. The dog nearly jumps forward with a bark when he slides a hand to his inside pocket, making Dean startle so violently he nearly falls off his chair. 

"Daisy, down," the man says, keeping a cautious eye on Dean as he gestures for him to continue what he was doing. Dean goes extra slowly as he takes his wallet out of his inside pocket. He slides it over the table to the man, who goes through it until he finds Dean's licence and the Impala's registration papers. "No insurance?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

"It's not in there?" Dean asks innocently. The man sends him a look that clearly says he's a bad liar. 

"Did you walk here?"

"Well, you have my car so…"

"Don't get smart with me, boy. It's one in the morning and I'm already way past done with this shit. Were you trying to steal the car?"

"What? No!" Dean defends.

"What the frack were you doing then?"

"I just...I needed something from in there."

"Well, you're not taking anything from that car until I see the two hundreds for towing and storage," the man warns. 

Dean looks down at the table between them, biting his lips and willing himself not to cry. He's such an idiot. He should have thought of that before he walked here, tried to argue harder with Benny to get his money back. He was so panicked and out of it that he didn't even think about the money he would need to get Baby out of the impound lot. Now there is no way he can make the walk to Benny and back without freezing to death. 

"Now stop trying to bullshit me and answer me honestly," the man continues, his tone somehow gentler, "if I throw you out right now, do you have anywhere to go?" Dean looks up in surprise. The man is searching his gaze, but Dean's eyes are wet with tears that he doesn't want him to see, so he fixes his stare back to his own lap and shakes his head minutely. The man takes a long sigh. Dean can hear the noise his beard makes as he scratches it. "Shower is down the hall. You reek."

Dean looks up, but the man is already getting up, back to him as he opens the fridge. Dean doesn't know what to say, caught off guard. Somehow, he doesn't think this man is going to go into explaining why and how he's offering his shower and house to a perfect stranger. Especially not one that just committed B & E on his property. It's probably not the time to question his luck, so Dean gets up and rushes to the bathroom before the man can change his mind. 

Dean takes his time under the much needed shower. It takes nearly ten minutes for him to warm up enough that he can feel his extremities again. They hurt like hell and are bright red, but it doesn't look like he's going to lose any toes. 

Once he gets out of the shower, Dean watches his clothes with disgust for a long time. They are dirty, they reek and are soaked through. The last thing he wants is to put them back on. He can't exactly stroll through the house naked though, and asking for clean clothes would probably be pushing his luck. He tries to wash his shirt as well as he can by scrubbing at it with a wet towel. He gets rid of most of the vomit on the front, even if it still smells awful. He shivers when he puts it back on, the wet fabric sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He does the same with his jeans after he brushes off the last clot of snow and mud sticking to the bottom of it. He already feels cold again. 

Dean nearly feels like crying in relief when he opens the bathroom door and sees his backpack on the ground in front of it. Despite his words, the man clearly took it out of the Impala and brought it for him. He rushes to change his dirty clothes for clean ones. 

Even in the heated house, he's still shivering, so he put two button down shirts over his tee. When he takes a pair of clean jeans out of the bag, a purple tube falls off. He blinks at the hand cream that Cas gave him, brain stuck on pause for a minute. It's high end stuff and seeing the state of his hands right now, he should probably use it, but he can't bring himself to. He puts the tube on the edge of the sink with the stranger's other products. Let him have it, Dean doesn't need any reminder of this whole mess. 

When he comes back to the kitchen, there's a bowl of soup and some buttered toasts on the table. The shotgun is nowhere to be seen. The man is sitting on the other side, but Dean doesn't dare to be presumptuous and hover behind the chair, not daring to seat or touch the food. 

"If you don't want it, Daisy will gladly have it," the man says without looking up from a newspaper he's reading. As if to agree, the dog barks once. It's nothing like her previous vicious barks, she looks relaxed, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and tail wriggling. 

Dean sits at the table, grabs his spoon and starts to eat eagerly. No way he's missing any chance at a warm meal. 

"I've decided not to call the cops," the man says, like it doesn't already look obvious. "You can sleep on the couch for tonight. We'll talk about your car tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't sir me. Name's Bobby. I'm keeping your wallet and car keys for the night. Daisy will stay with you to make sure you don't get any funny ideas. Rufus is outside and pretty pissed you interrupted his good night of sleep, so I wouldn't try to go and get some air if I were you," Bobby warns. Dean can only nod in answer. He doesn't like being threatened and kept inside like a prisoner, but it's not like he's eager to go back into the cold either. "Good," the man declares, raising up with a wince as his knees crack. "Don't touch anything. You even look at my whisky and I'll shoot you." Without further ado, he throws the newspaper on the table and leaves the room. Dean looks at him go, listening to the sound of his steps as he climbs the stairs, until a door is slammed shut upstairs. 

"Your master is a weird dude," he says to the dog. Daisy inclines her head in a way that reminds him a little too much of Castiel, so Dean pushes the rest of his meal away and goes to bed. 

  
  


************

Dean's woken up by a bark the next morning. He opens one eye and sees both dogs dancing excitedly around their master as he tries to get out with bowls full of food in his hands. Dean groans and puts the blanket over his face to try to cover the light. 

He yelps when the blanket is torn away from him a couple of minutes later. 

"What the hell!" he screams, raising up at once and on the defensive. Bobby is standing at the foot of the couch, holding a snow shovel. Dean blinks at him, not quite awake yet. The shovel is pushed toward him. 

"Get to work if you want breakfast," Bobby declares before turning around and leaving the room, leaving a groggy Dean blinking at a snow shovel. 

  
  


************

It takes Dean two hours to make a path through snow from the house to the gate. By the end of it, he's freezing again. 

The smell of bacon immediately perks him up when he enters the house. This time, he sits with no hesitation and starts shoveling food into his mouth. Bobby doesn't even look up from his newspaper. Dean wonders if it's the same one as last night. There's no way a new one was delivered this morning in that snow. Who reads the newspaper nowadays anyway? 

He looks around and realizes that he shouldn't be surprised. This house looks straight out of the nineties, with orange flowery wallpaper, a mint colored formica kitchen and a catodic television in the living room. The couch Dean slept on is probably older than him and there are piles of yellowed books everywhere. 

"See something you like?" Bobby asks, mefiant, when he notices Dean looking around. 

"Nah. Just old junk," Dean answers with a smirk full of bacon, looking straight at Bobby. The other man scoffs, surprised, but clearly not offended, and Dean relaxes. He's known men like Bobby his whole life: poor, gruff, but with a good heart. They always seem to appreciate it when you give as much as you get, and aren't scared to talk back. Dean's dad was like that too. Except sometimes he really _ really  _ didn't like it when his kids talked back. He didn't like pansy though, wanted his kids to be tough and take no shit. Dean wonders briefly what his dad would think of everything that happened to Dean this last month. Of what his life has become. Of him liking another man. He stomps that thought fast though, because he's pretty sure John wouldn't be happy about it. 

"Have you thought about how you're going to pay me to get your car back?" Bobby asks, thankfully putting a stop to Dean's thoughts. Not that the ones it brings are that much better. 

"Yes. Do you think I could use your phone?"

"If it earns me two hundred bucks, sure," Bobby says, pointing at the phone hanging from the wall. Jesus, Dean hasn't seen a phone like that since he was a kid. It doesn't even have buttons, only that wheel thingy to enter the number. 

"Did I travel twenty years back or something?"

"Yes, want me to kick you in the ass 'til you fast forward back to the future?" Bobby taunts. 

Dean snorts and goes to the phone, poking at it for a while before he remembers how it's supposed to work. He can hear Bobby huffing and grumbling against the young generation behind him. 

"Rocky's bar," comes the southern accent at the end of the line. 

"Hey, Benny. It's Dean."

"Oh. You're alive. That's a surprise," Benny says. He's trying to speak drily, but Dean recognizes the relief in his voice. 

"I- huh, my car got towed. I need some money to get it back," Dean explains. 

"Show me the bill and I'll give you the sum you need."

"The bill? I'm not a freaking toddler, Benny! It's my money!" 

"Or I could just hang up."

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Benny hums a warning in answer and Dean hurries. "No no, don't hang up!" he begs. "I'll see what I can do. But please, Benny, I really need that money."

"It's like I said, brother. Come by when you can, with a bill, and we'll see, alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, alright," Dean accepts, deflating. What choice does he have?

"Take care, cher," Benny drawls before hanging up. 

Dean sighs. He hates Benny for this...but that's also the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. Maybe Benny really is a friend after all, because Dean is hundred percent sure that, in his current state of mind, he would burn through all that money in less than a month. He just can't see a way out right now. He's seen how the other half lives. More than the luxury, it showed him what having a family is like, and it makes Dean aches to know that all the money in the world isn't going to give him that. His mom has been dead for decades, his dad is gone too, and Sammy...Sammy is just as well as gone too. Or rather, Dean is dead to him. 

"So?"

Dean shakes out of his thoughts and hangs up the phone. 

"Could you drive me to town?"

"Not in that I can't," Bobby points to the window. It has started snowing again. "Snow is gonna be falling 'til tomorrow, at least. They don't bother clearing the road around here until they're sure it's not gonna get covered two minutes later."

"Then when did you have me clear the driveway?" Dean reproaches, looking at the path he made already starting to fill with snow again. 

"Wanted to see if you would do it," Bobby shrugs, a smirk raising the corner of his lips, just a little.

"Asshole," Dean mutters as he sits back down. "What am I supposed to do then?"

"Oh don't worry, I'll find you some work."

************

"Are you kidding me?" Dean exclaims when he finishes moving the pile of metal junk from the garage to the bin, like Bobby asked, only for the old man to show him another pile of junk. 

"I ain't mother Theresa, you want food and shelter, you work. You know where the door is if you're not happy with it," Bobby taunts. Dean sighs and gets to work, sulking. "You're repairing the hole you did in my fence next, so move it along already."

  
  


************

By the time Dean finishes mending the fences, he's exhausted and everything hurts. It's a good kind of hurt though, the kind that comes from hard work. He fixed the hole he made, and then saw other weaknesses in the mesh as he was walking back, so he fixed those too. He ended up checking the whole fence surrounding the property, making sure everything was solidly in place and fixing the parts that weren't. The place would probably be safer with a few motion triggered lamps, which he is now telling Bobby around dinner. The dogs are good, but not infallible, especially to cover such a large area. The lamps would also help the dogs spot intruders. 

"It's not like many idjits try to trespass anyway."

Dean shrugs, "Just saying," he says around a mouthful of chicken. "Do you mind if I use some of your tools to check on the Impala tomorrow?"

"You know your way around a car?"

"Yeah, my dad taught me. Grew up on the road, you know, if you don't have a decent car, you don't have a home," he bites his lips, wondering if he's said too much. "I haven't been taking good enough care of my Baby recently, she deserves a good check up," he says guiltily. "You can add whatever I use to the bill, of course," he rushes to say. 

Bobby is looking at him weird, squinting like he's trying to multiplicate large numbers in his head or something. Dean decides to ignore it. 

  
  


************

"You're looking good, brother," Benny greets him when he enters the bar. Dean must certainly look better than the last time Benny saw him, since he happened to  _ not  _ be covered in vomit and can stand on his own two legs. 

The three days at Bobby's did him good. He didn't exactly get the chance to rest, since Bobby always seemed to have something for him to do, but it meant that Dean didn't have time to dwell too much on the past either, so it wasn't so bad. This morning, the snow had finally stopped falling and melted enough that the roads were usable again. Dean couldn't help but feel disappointed when he saw it. No more snow means getting back his Baby, sure, but it also means no more heated house or warm meals. Tonight, Dean will be back to sleeping on the backseat of the Impala. 

For all he made a fuss about Dean bringing one, Benny barely looks at the Salvage Yard's bill, just takes a glance at the sum. 

"Can I have a little more?" Dean asks. He's not gonna put up a fight with Benny to get all the money back. He's sobered up enough to realize it probably wouldn't be a good idea, but if he's going back to homelessness, he needs to buy a few more warm blankets and food. Maybe even some kind of heater. Benny eyes him for a minute before he nods and adds a few more bills. Dean doesn't dare to ask how much of the money is left. After his weekend with Castiel, he had close to three thousand dollars. He has no idea how much he spoiled on booze before Benny put his foot down. He's not sure he wants to know just now. 

On the way back, Bobby stops at a general store and they both go their own way through the aisles. Dean buys two packs of warm socks, a reusable water bottle, a new thermos so he can fill his old one with soup and the new one with coffee, some trash bags (it's not very dignified but it keeps warm), wet wipes to wash up, and the thickest sleeping bag he can find. It's his first winter in the street, he's not sure what else he could need. Last year, he still had his apartment. It was shitty, but at least he had central heating. 

His plan was to go down South, but he can't just leave his money to Benny. It's more reassuring that he would have thought to know that he has a safe nest somewhere. He'll try to last as long as possible without touching it, but at least he knows it's here if he  _ really _ needs it. 

After he's paid for his things and put aside the money he owns to Bobby, there's still fifty bucks left in his wallet. It's more than he's had in a while. If he goes to the soup kitchen and can load up his thermos, he should be able to last at least a month. 

Bobby eyes his purchase with a frown when he joins him. He has two bags himself, full of hardware, and they both load up the car in silence. 

"How come your friend is keeping your money?" Bobby asks on the drive back. Dean is nervous. He's not sure what will happen when they'll reach their destination. Should he pay, take Baby and drive off immediately or can he grab a bite before he goes? He's not sure how to ask. 

"I don't always make good decisions with it," Dean admits. 

"Yeah. I've been there," Bobby says, but doesn't elaborate. They stay silent until Bobby is parking in the driveway. He stops the car and points a thumb over his shoulder. "I bought those lamps you were talking about. You think you'll manage to put them up?" He's not quite looking at Dean, scratching his hair with a finger under the side of his cap. He looks a little nervous, which is new for Bobby. 

Dean's not sure what that means. "I think so, yes."

"Good," Bobby nods. "You'll do that tomorrow then. Now go and unload the truck, I'm beat, I'm going for a nap."

  
  


************

They don't talk about it, but five days later, Dean is still here. Bobby keeps finding things for him to do. Dean thinks shutting up and doing it is going pretty well for him, so he doesn't protest. He hasn't paid for the Impala either. Not really. He tried to give the envelope of cash to Bobby, but the older man just told him to put it on the dresser. It's still there now, untouched. 

He's not sure what it means until one day Bobby comes back with a car in tow and asks him to help him with the repairs. So far, all Dean did was cleaning and house repair stuff, he's never touched any cars outside of his Baby, because that's Bobby's work. 

"Am I working for you now?" he asks as he slides under the car. 

"Depends on if you can fix that leak," Bobby says simply. 

This is too big, would be too life changing for Dean to ignore. He's always wanted to be a mechanic, but he had Sammy to take care of and never even finished high school. Sure, he knows how to fix a car, he's fiddled enough with the Impala, and read enough car magazines to know a little more than the basics, but having real work experience could make a real difference for him in the future. So he rolls out from under the car and raises an eyebrow at Bobby, waiting for a real answer. 

"There's not much of a salary to earn," Bobby says regretfully. 

Dean nibbles on his bottom lip for a second, looking at the antiquated garage around him. "I'll take it anyway," he affirms, sliding back under the car. 

And that's that. 

  
  


************

The next day, Bobby shows him how to work the tow truck and how to log in the new cars. 

One month later, he's glaring at Bobby as the old man goes up for his second nap of the day, leaving him in charge. Dean teases him for working him hard while Bobby relaxes, but the truth is he doesn't mind. He can spend hours under a car doing repairs, enjoying every minute of it. Even the people screaming at him as he tows off their badly parked car don't bother him. He feels like he finally has found his place in society. More than that, he feels like this is his second chance. 

Sure, he still lives on a ratty couch and doesn't have much to his name, but he wakes up every morning with work to do, a routine. He eats three meals a day and spends his nights watching shitty tv shows while Bobby reads and criticizes his taste in tv (although Dean has noticed that there weren't many pages being turned when Sexy MD is on). 

It's nowhere close to the grand life that people like the Novaks live, but it's better than living in his car or in motels. It's better than having to share a granola with his little brother, or throwing his homework in the trash because his dad threw up on it. 

It's calm, and safe, and  _ enough _ . 

  
  


************

Daisy's looking up at him with huge brown eyes, her chin resting on his thigh. He throws a look at Bobby on the other side of the table, but the old man seems engrossed in his newspaper, like every morning. Dean discreetly cuts off a piece of his bacon and slides it under the table. It's immediately gulped down by the dog.

"You're making her fat," Bobby complains without looking up from his reading. 

The other dog, Rufus, is an old grump that would rather sulk outside and pee on everything than come anywhere near Dean. Daisy is the opposite. As soon as she realized that he'd passed from 'intruder: must maim' to 'friend', she'd started begging him to be cuddled and petted. Bobby thinks Dean shouldn't give her any of those because she's a guard dog, not a pet. But how is he supposed to resist those big brown eyes? It took about four seconds of Daisy whining in front of the door on the second night before Dean discreetly let her inside. Since Bobby had specifically forbidden it, Dean had hushed her out back outside at dawn before Bobby woke up, but as soon as the old man opened the door, she ran straight back to the couch to cuddle right back to Dean. Bobby ribbed him a new one about spoiling her and him being one guard dog down at night because of it. The old man was the one to give up a few hours later though, when Dean looked about as miserable as Daisy sounded as she cried from outside. She hasn't left Dean's side since then, cuddling to him on the couch and watching him work all day. Dean has never been a dog person, but she's good company, even if she tends to wake him in the middle of the night by licking his damn feet. 

"Don't listen to him, you're perfect," Dean reassures the dog, earning himself a lick on the mouth. He grimaces and pushes her away. "Shh, I told you, Daisy, I'm sorry but you're just not my type." The dog whines in answer, sending a look to his plate of bacon. "You're a beautiful lady, we're just not made for one another."

Bobby groans a barely audible "idjit" as he gets up to get some more coffee, throwing the newspaper on the table. Dean takes the opportunity to steal it. He's scanning the pages, searching for the jokes and comics section, when his eyes land on a familiar face and he freezes. Bobby seems to notice his shock and look over his shoulder at the article Dean is blinking at. 

"Mister Kevin Tran and Miss Anna Novak are happy to announce their wedding," Bobby reads aloud. "That an ex of yours or something?" 

"Something," Dean breathes, voice tight. He folds the paper and puts it face down on the table. "I have work to do," he says absentmindedly, hurrying out of the room. 

It's all rushing back to him. That first lunch with Castiel and Naomi, Anna's engagement party, the jacuzzi....He needs some air. He's successfully avoided thinking about the Novaks for some time now, burying any thought of Castiel under menial tasks and stupid tv. Now he feels like he's drowning in those very thoughts he's trying to forget about and he can't get enough air. 

He's not sure how he ends up sitting on the front step or how long he stays there. He didn't even notice the dog cuddling against him or the cold seeping through his pores. All he can think about is how much he misses Castiel. It feels like there is a hole inside of him that only Cas' presence can fill. It makes him wonder if he'll feel like that for the rest of his life. He's already spent so much more time without Cas that he ever did with him. They've only known each other for a handful of days, after all.

How could someone change him so thoroughly in only a few days? 

He barely reacts when a blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. 

"You're going to catch death, you idjit," Bobby reproaches as he sits on the step beside Dean with a pained grunt. The younger man squeezes the blanket a little more around himself, realizing that he is indeed cold, having gotten outside in a simple tee shirt. There are a couple weeks into January already, and it's getting colder and colder. "So?" Bobby asks after a few minutes, sounding impatient. "You know I don't do chick flick moments, but there's definitely a story there. I'm ready to hear it if you feel like sharing it."

Dean looks at Bobby for a few minutes. He's never told anyone about Castiel before. Never really had the chance to come out. He's terrified that Bobby would give him the boot for it. It's a weird feeling, because he never gave much thought to his sexuality before Castiel, or what people could think of it since then. He liked women and then he liked Castiel. He hasn't been able to look at anyone else in that way ever since. He's not even sure what kind of person he would look for, what he  _ is _ . 

"I'm not sure you want to know," Dean admits, squeezing Daisy's head a little closer to his chest. 

"That probably means you need to tell me," Bobby answers, strangely wise for once. "Not much can shock me at my age, believe me."

Dean can't help, but scoffs. He takes a deep breath and starts talking. He doesn't mean to say so much, doesn't mean to tell Bobby  _ everything _ , but once he starts to talk, the words just keep coming. He doesn't just tell him about Cas, he tells him about his dad, he tells him about Sammy. 

He's never told anyone about Sammy either. About the worst day of his life and those harsh words that pushed the kid out of his life forever. About how he had a choice to make, his dad or his little brother, and made the wrong one. About how he lost everything because of it. Bobby doesn't say anything, doesn't react much, just listen. 

Dean doesn't know how long he talks, but Bobby's cheeks are pink from the cold by the end of it. They stay silent a while after, the words still turning inside their heads and floating around them. 

"So let me get this straight," Bobby finally says, breaking the silence, "you're a freaking idjit that makes bad choices and is too much of a sissy to take it back, is that it?"

"What the fuck, Bobby?!" he balks, getting up brusquely, dislodging Daisy who whine in answer. "Would it kill you to show a little compassion?"

"Oh, I am! Your dad was a bastard. Those Novaks sound like a bunch of righteous assholes. That sucks. But come on, son, what did you expect?"

"What?"

"You tell your brother to fuck off and to never call you again, and act surprised when he does. Then you ask this Cas guy to tell his whole family to fuck off, and act surprise when he doesn't? Did you fucking learn nothing?" Bobby says sharply, raising up too. 

"I-," Dean scowls. "I never saw it like that."

"Obviously!" Bobby yells. "I mean, boohoo your life sucks, princess, but you can't expect people to fight for you if you don't give them a reason to. Hell, if you won't even fight for yourself! What do you think this is, a freaking fairy tale? That your brother is gonna forgive everything and find you in the middle of bum fuck, and then the rich guy will fall helplessly in love with you and gives up his whole world for you? Which freaking lifetime movie do you think you're living in?" Bobby says, waving his arms. "Newsflash, the real world sucks. If you want something you've gotta fight for it. And even then, it will tell you to fuck off, but you just fight harder.  _ That's _ how you get what you want!"

Dean stares at the steps behind Bobby, jaw working, processing. 

"Now I'm getting inside because my balls are about to freeze. You're welcome to join me once you get your head out of your ass," Bobby declares, turning around and going inside. 

Dean's vision is blurry, eyes full of tears that he's too angry to shed. Is Bobby right? Did he just let everyone he loved leave him without fighting for them? He always thought his life sucked and that there was that. That he didn't deserve them in the first place anyway. Why should he fight for them when they'll surely be better off without him?

But Sam, Sam was only eighteen. Sam had no one else. Sam needed him and yet he let him go. He chose to side with his father instead, like the mean old drunk knew anything about succeeding in life. Like he knew anything about family. 

Fuck. How could Dean ask Cas to give up on his whole family, when Dean wasn't even able to give up on his poor example of a father, even for the kid he loved above everything. What a freaking hypocrite he was. No wonder Castiel told him to go. No wonder Sammy never came back. He thought they left him, but obviously he was the one who pushed them away. 

  
  


************

"You done?" Bobby asks when Dean comes inside a few hours later. He's spent most of the afternoon with a slide hammer, pretexting to do bodywork, when really, he just needed something to hit. He thinks Bobby gets that. 

"Yeah," Dean says, letting himself fall on the couch. He's exhausted, the muscles in his arms trembling for overuse. It will hurt like hell tomorrow. Daisy immediately jumps up to cuddle up to his side. Bobby gives a side-eye to the dog that isn't normally allowed to go on the couch. Dean really has been spoiling her.

"Good," Bobby affirms. "What are you going to do about it then?"

"I don't know," Dean pouts. "Doesn't seem like there is much I can do now," he shrugs. He has no idea how to reach Sam, or Castiel. He's not sure they would even want him to. 

"Well, that's a bummer,  _ princess _ ."

"Bobby," Dean whines. He's too exhausted for this kind of tough love right now. Bobby seems to get it, deflating and rolling his eyes. 

"Alright alright. I still think you're an idjit though."

"Yeah, I think you've made that pretty clear. Repeatedly," Dean mumbles. 

Bobby reaches one hand from the armchair he's seating in, patting Dean's knee before he adds in a gentler tone, "You're one of the good one, Dean. Don't let anyone think differently, not even yourself."

"I thought you didn't do chick flick moments?" Dean teases. 

"You must have contaminated me with all your stupid shows," Bobby grumbles, letting himself fall back in his armchair. 

Dean can't help but smile at the grumpy old man routine. At least, he's not alone anymore. He's got this old grunt in his life now. 

  
  


************

"Yellow," Dean says enthusiastically as he answers the phone, swallowing a giant piece of grilled cheese. 

"Hi, Dean, it's Jody."

"Hello, beautiful," Dean says with a charming smile that the Sheriff can't see but can certainly hear. Who knew he would ever be friends with a cop? Jody is cool though, and Dean is always delighted at flirting with her because it makes Bobby jealous. It'd be about time this old fart made something about the obvious crush he has on the Sheriff. Jody certainly doesn't look like she would object. So Dean has decided to tease and push until Bobby finally moves his ass. Lately he's gotten the feeling that Jody could see right through him, and she's been showing her approval to the plan by flirting right back, to Bobby's utter annoyance. 

"I've got an illegally parked car on Berkley's street. I'm gonna need the tow," she explains. 

"No problem, I'll send Bobby over."

"Can't you do it?" 

"What, you two got into a fight or something?"

"All the time! But that's not what that's about," Jody teases, "The guy looks like a pompous ass and you know how patient Bobby is with those."

"Yeah," Dean grimaces, thinking back on the ass ribbing he got this morning for closing the toothpaste cap in what was, in Bobby's opinion, the  _ wrong  _ way. "Alright, I'll be there in twenty. You think you can abstain yourself for punching him until then?"

"Who, me? I'm a example of patience!"

"Yeah, sure," Dean says sarcastically. 

"Just move your damn ass," Jody swears, hanging up. 

Those two are a match made in Heaven, no doubt. Okay, maybe not 'Heaven' exactly…

  
  


************

Dean arrives on Berkley's street twelve minutes later (he always gives her a larger estimate so Jody is happily surprised rather than growling about him taking his damn time). He pushes the break a little too brusquely, making them squeal, when he notices the car Jody is standing next to. 

It's a freaking Tesla. Same color and model as Cas. Surely that's a coincidence… Right? 

He looks around for the 'pompous ass' that Jody mentioned, but can't see Cas anywhere. He gives a breath of relief as he slides out of the truck. He tries to throw a look inside the car, in case he sees anything that could confirm it's Cas car, but the car is empty. It's also perfectly parked along the sidewalk. On a free parking space. 

"What the hell, Jody, that doesn't look like bad parking to me," he says as he approaches her. 

She immediately puts a hand on her hip, "You're gonna teach me my job now?" Her tone is slightly threatening, yet there is something off about her. She's looking around like she's nervous. 

"Where's the driver?" Dean asks, suspicious.

"Haven't seen him yet."

"You said he was a pompous ass!"

"Well, he's driving a Tesla, isn't he?" she answers with a raised eyebrow and...okay, he can't argue with that. He makes a face confirming just that before he turns around and walks to the truck, maybe a little faster that is needed. Maybe he can have the car and himself out of here before he even has to find out if it  _ is _ Castiel's car. 

"Dean?"

Dean freezes at the sound of a voice that he knows all too well. He takes a deep breath, squeezes his fists by his side to try and compose himself, then he turns around. Cas is on the other side of the car. He's wearing that stupid trenchcoat like he always is, and is wide eyed like Dean always seems to make him. 

"Hi Cas."

They stare at each other for what feels like a long moment until Jody intervenes, "Oh Golly, look at that, I think you were right Dean, this car isn't in infraction after all!" The look Dean gives her clearly states that he's not buying her bullshit. Bobby must have told her about Castiel, probably told her about his car too. This has all the signs of a set up. "Nevermind. I should go. I have law to enforce and all that," Jody says, starting to walk away backward as she looks from Cas to him. She gives Dean some kind of head sign toward the other man and he rolls his eyes. "See you later!" With that, she turns around and rushes straight to her car that is parked a few spaces further down the road. Dean doesn't miss the fact that she doesn't turn the car on, nor leaves. She's probably already calling her partner in crime to gossip. 

"This is awkward," Castiel notes in that usual deadpanned tone he uses. That makes Dean snort. 

"You have no idea, dude."

"Don't call me dude."

This brings back memories of them rubbing naked against one another, of Cas saying those same words then. From the way Cas immediately looks a little flushed after saying it, he remembers too.

Dean hesitates. He's imagined that moment a thousand times already, yet he can't find anything to say. He wants to fall to his knees and beg. Or run away before Cas manages to hurt him even more than he did before. No one had ever hurt him like that. 

Dean's self-preservation instincts finally win over and he starts backing up. 

"I should get back to work," he declares with a vague gesture to the tow truck that is blocking the road. He turns around, ready to run away. Lliterally if he has to. 

"Dean, wait," Cas says. It takes Dean breath away. He's imagined Cas saying this to him that last night in Vermont so many times that it's heart wrenching to hear those words now. He can't quite bring himself to turn around, eyes fixed on the driver cab of his truck just a few feet away, on the clear escape right in front of him. "Would you…," Cas hesitates, voice barely audible over the noise of traffic. "Would you have a cup of coffee with me?"

Dean wants to run. He wants to get back to this new life he's building. A life where he's starting to feel good, where he's starting to find a place, to find himself. Yet his feet are stuck to the ground, his whole body screaming for him to get closer to Cas. 

It's dangerous, and it's a bad idea. He says yes anyway. 


	7. The talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback you're giving me, it reassures my low self-esteem to hear you like this story. 
> 
> Here is a chapter where people actually talk to each other *shocked gasp*

************

They enter the first coffee shop they see. Dean's truck is still in the middle of the road, but who cares. Jody won't give him a ticket when she orchestrated this whole thing in the first place, and they can't exactly tow a tow truck away, can they?

The place isn't too crowded, which is a relief. They wait for their drinks in silence, before they go and sit at a little booth against the far wall. 

"You look good, Dean," Castiel says to break the heavy silence between them. His voice is sincere as his eyes look him over. Dean knows he must note the changes in him. He's less scrawny now that he has three meals a day, muscles forming around his arms and pecs from spending his days working. He's clean shaven and his hair is shorter too. He can look in the mirror now and see something else than a bum. He can recognize himself again. 

"Thanks. You look good too," Dean says awkwardly, squirming a little in his chair. It still feels weird to say that to a dude, even more so because it's a lie. Cas looks like crap. He looks like the contrary of Dean actually. His scruff and hair look longer, and his cheeks are a little more hollowed. Dean hates the way that makes his stomach turn in worry, so he diverts his eyes. 

"I'm sorry for the way things ended between us," Cas admits, turning his cup of coffee nervously in his hands. 

"It wasn't your fault," Dean tries to shrug off. Truth is, it really wasn't. Cas may have hurt him, but Dean doesn't blame him. Not anymore. 

"Still. I feel like you deserve an explanation."

"About what?" Dean asks, genuinely surprised. "I was the one with the 'secrets'"

"It's not keeping secrets if no one asks you about it," Cas corrects. "I do not blame you for not telling me about your past, Dean. On the contrary, I feel like I should be the one telling you about mine," he says. Dean is on the verge to protest, Cas doesn't owe him anything after all, but Cas' eyes soften as he leans his head a little forward and Dean can't resist those eyes. "Would you let me tell you my story?"

"You don't need to, Cas," Dean grumbles, already knowing he can't refuse anyway. 

"I know. But the way I told you to go...I need you to understand, Dean. I need you to understand why all of this happened in the first place."

"Why?" 

Castiel looks taken aback by the question, biting his bottom lip in thoughts for a second. "I couldn't say," he finally admits. "It's just important to me that you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you, Cas," Dean says, shocked at the idea. I could never hate you, he wants to say but doesn't. He wants to say other things that he knows he shouldn't, especially when he sees how relieved Cas appears. 

"Still. Will you hear me out?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"I know you think my family is close-minded, and that their judgement of you has been harsh and unfair." He looks up at Dean, and nods to himself when Dean doesn't try to deny it. "You ask me to turn my back on them, not understanding why I could never do that."

"Cas, that was a m-"

"Please, let me talk," Castiel requests. Dean shuts up. "I know that me refusing felt like rejection and that it hurt you." He looks up, and again, Dean doesn't deny it. "That's why it's important to me that you know why I started this whole masquerade in the first place. The  _ real  _ reason," Castiel points out, when Dean looks surprised. He thought he knew it already. Castiel takes a long gulp of his drink as if to give himself the strength to continue. "I knew I was gay before I even knew how to write down my own name. We used to live in Illinois, in a very conservative town, and my family used to be very religious back then. My dad was…," Cas pauses, starting to tear his paper napkin into little pieces. "Our church wasn't the most open-minded. Quite the contrary in fact. When I was thirteen, my dad stumbled upon me kissing Billy Hopper behind the garage. It was my very first kiss," Cas explains, "My dad...my dad was furious."

His hands tremble and Dean can't help himself, he grabs them and cradles them into his own. Cas sends him a grateful look and takes a few seconds to gather himself. 

Just imagining John's reaction in the same context makes Dean shiver in fear, he can't imagine what actually living through something like that must have been. 

"He- He wanted to send me to conversion therapy," Cas admits. Dean squeezes his hands harder. "I was terrified. Rightly so. All my childhood I heard how wrong, how monstrous I must have been as I was attending our Church, but I'd always hold the hope that my family would love me anyway. My dad didn't, but...but my mom did. She asked my big brothers to take us out for ice cream that night. Anna was still just a baby, but Lucifer and Michael were in their late teens," Cas explained. "When we came back, our father was gone. We moved out of town a week later and never looked back or heard from him again."

"I'm sorry your dad was an asshole, Cas."

Cas chuckles sadly. "Yeah. Me too," he confirms, taking his hands away from Dean's to take a sip at his drink. "The thing is...You think my family is bad. That Lucifer is an asshole, and my mother is too strict, but what you have to understand is that they gave up everything that day. My mom gave up on her marriage, her congregation, her hometown and all her friends, even her own parents. For  _ me _ ," Cas says. "She came here so that I could have a chance to be who I am, free of people's hate or judgement. And as for my siblings...I know you think Lucifer is unkind, but the thing is, he never complained. Not once. They all lost their father because of me. He never wanted to see them again, he was afraid that I had 'tainted' them. Yet none of them ever blamed me for it. All they ever did was try to protect me," Cas explains. "They still are."

"From me," Dean notes, a little dejected. Being compared to Cas' bigoted dad doesn't sit well with him. 

"From _ everything _ ," Cas insists, grabbing his hands back. "Why do you think I started all this in the first place? My family gave up everything so that I could live freely, love anyone I care to, yet I'm thirty and still single. I felt a- a responsibility."

"Well, not  _ anyone _ , clearly," Dean says bitterly. 

"No. Not anyone," Cas agrees. "I  _ owe  _ them, Dean. I owe them to find love, and prove to them that they didn't make all those sacrifices in vain," Cas pleads Dean to understand.

"You don't owe them shit, Cas."

Cas shakes his head, releasing his hand with a sigh. "You still don't understand," he says regretfully. 

"I understand that they're trying to guilt you into choosing someone they approve of. Hell, scratch that, you're guilting  _ yourself _ . They're only controlling your life because you're letting them, Cas. If they loved you enough to give up on all this before, then they'll love you enough to let you be happy on your own terms," Dean explains. "So yeah, maybe they're not the assholes I thought they were, but you don't owe them shit for doing the decent thing and sticking by you."

Cas scoffs sadly. "That sounds so easy when you say it. I-I wish I was the man you think I am, Dean, but I can't. I won't force them to accept you and risk…"

"This isn't about me, Cas!" Dean protests. "You think it'll be any different with the next man you bring over? They'll always find something wrong,  _ you _ 'll always find something wrong with him, because no one can be perfect enough to justify losing your own dad over."

Cas recoils. "What?"

"Isn't that what you're doing? What you're  _ all _ doing?"

Cas looks at him for a long time before he scoffs. "Who knew you were that insightful."

"Yeah, well, I'm bored a lot and Doctor Phil is kind of a guilty pleasure," Dean shrugs self-deprecatingly. 

"You're a very smart man, Dean."

"Don't sound so surprised," Dean tries to shrug it off. 

"I wish you could see yourself as I see you."

"Well, likewise, dumbass."

  
  


**************

Dean isn't in the least surprised when he comes home to find Jody sitting in the kitchen with Bobby. They shut up as soon as they hear him approaching, obviously having been gossiping. Dean rolls his eyes as he goes to the fridge, opening a beer and sipping it slowly with his back to them. He can feel their eager stares, can hear the chair squeaking under Jody's impatient squirming as they wait for him to spill the beans. He turns, smirking in satisfaction when he sees how restless they are. 

"So?" Bobby asks, surprising Dean by being the one to crack first. Jody looks ready to burst with excitement. "You're gonna tell us or I gotta go search for my rod to fish it out of your ass?"

He looks slowly from Jody to Bobby, and back again. He takes another long sip, letting them stew a little longer. 

"We went for coffee," he finally says. Jody defletes when he doesn't say anything more. 

"And?" she insists. 

"Nothing. That doesn't change anything."

"What do you mean that doesn't change anything? Do you know how long it took us to even find that damn car?" Bobby reproaches. Yells, really. 

"Well, I don't remember asking you anything, Nancy Drew. What did you think, that we would see each other, confess our undying love and elope to Vegas?"

"Well, yeah!" Bobby exclaims. "How did you fuck that up this time?"

Dean scowls. "Screw you, Bobby." 

Jody puts herself between them, stepping in front of Dean and putting her fingers on his chin until he stops glaring at Bobby and looks at her. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks gently. 

Dean shrugs, taking a long gulp of his beer. "There's nothing to say. I'm still not good enough for his family, and he's not going against them. Nothing's changed."

"I'm sorry, Dean. We didn't mean to twist the knife, you know," Jody says. Even Bobby looks contrite now. 

"I know," Dean says with a long sigh. "Thank you for trying. I'm sorry I'm still too fucked up to be worth the effort," he says dejectedly 

"Dean…," Jody tries to reassure. He can't hear it right now though. Cas was clear, nothing has changed, he just wanted Dean to understand why it can't be any different. That doesn't make it hurt less, it just makes it more final. 

Dean pushes her hands away as she tries to lean one on his shoulder. "I'll be in the garage," he grumbles as he leaves the kitchen. 

  
  


************

It's only two days later, when a long black car drives through the muddy driveway and stops in front of the opened garage door. Dean is working under the hood of an old Porsche. He eyes up the car, distrustful because that's not the type of car that generally drives by, unless it's on the back of the tow truck. 

He's not sure he's surprised, when Naomi emerges from the back. She's wearing an immaculate white tailored suit, with a long coat thrown over her shoulders, shining diamonds hanging from her ears. It's a sharp contrast to the pile of junk cars behind her. Just looking at her makes Dean feel dirty, and he can't help but grab a dishcloth to wipe some of the motor oil from his hands. It's hopeless, his nails are permanently dark now, and his white t-shirt is stained with dust and oil. He's wearing some of Bobby's hand me down jeans. The older man hasn't been able to fit in them for years, but they're still a little too big on Dean, hanging low on his hips. Even now that he has a decent job and income, just standing in front of Naomi's makes him feel like a bum. 

"Dean," she greets as she approaches. Somehow, she manages to walk in the mud with high heels without sliding once. Dean has to acknowledge that Cas' mom does have some class. 

"Naomi," he greets back. "I don't suppose you're here for your car?" he asks, sending a look to the shining car next to which Ketch is standing, wearing an honest to God driver’s uniform. 

"I came to talk."

"I don't think there is much left to say," he says, throwing the dirty rag on the workbench. 

"There is. Is there anywhere we could sit?" Naomi asks, looking at the couple of stools in the corner with distrustful eyes. She's probably right, there is no way her suit would survive sitting on one of those. 

Dean leads her inside instead. 

"Sorry about your suit," he says with a grimace as he pushes Daisy with his foot so she stays outside.

He couldn't help but find the scandalized face Naomi made when Daisy was a little too enthusiastic in her hello and left a bunch of muddy paw prints all over her pristine pants hilarious. She's still trying to brush them away with her hands. She probably knows it's useless. It looks more like a nervous move as they walk through the chaos that is Bobby's living room. Her eyes linger a little on the couch. The sheets and pillow are still rustled from last night, and Dean's backpack is at the foot of it. 

"It's my boss' house," Dean explains as he invites her to sit at the kitchen table. The kitchen isn't much to look at either, with half peeled off mint formica and yellowed wallpaper. He refuses to be ashamed though. "It might not look like much to you," Dean says as he pours some coffee into cups. It's probably an understatement. Naomi looks like she's worried just sitting here is giving her some kind of disease. He'd bet his Baby that she's not gonna touch her coffee. He still puts a cupful in front of her, before sitting on the other side of the table. "But it's the closest thing I've had to a home since I've been four. Nicest one too," he adds with a sip that burns his tongue. He's not trying to be provocative. Or maybe he is, he's not sure. He's just done hiding who he is to those people. 

Naomi is scrutinizing him in a way that reminds him of Castiel. It's not hostile, but it makes him more uncomfortable than Cas' gaze ever did. "You're an intriguing character, Dean, I'll concede that," she finally admits. 

"No one called me that before," Dean scoffs. 

"You must be smart too, to have fooled us like you did."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Did I? Because I remember being called a stray from the get go."

"We knew you came from-", she pauses, looking around for a second, "a more modest background."

"Lady, this is an upgrade compared to what my life looked like when I first met you," he interrupts. She inclines her head in that interrogative way Castiel has. On her, it looks more elegant, less like a confused puppy and more like a polite question mark. "The day I met Castiel, I had about forty cents to my name. I was living in my car and buying pants felt like a luxury I couldn't afford." He bites his lips, too close to revealing the real story about Castiel and him. Dean may not want to hide who he is anymore, but he doesn't plan on causing problems for Cas by confessing to the whole deception. It's not his story to tell.

"Is that why you were reduced to stealing in the past?" she asks, looking genuinely intrigued. She doesn't look like she pity him though, and Dean is glad because that would have just pissed him off. 

"I would have never stolen for myself," Dean denies with a shake of his head. "My only crime in that department was using the five fingers discount on some bread and peanut butter so my little brother could eat something more than stale cereals for a few nights. I went to a Boy's Home for it. Never did it again."

"And the violence?"

"Listen, I'm not gonna spill my whole life story to you," Dean says, getting annoyed and defensive. "Why are you here, Naomi?" he asks, more brusque. 

She stays silent for a moment, her eyes on him. It's long enough that he starts to squirm in his chair under the weight of her gaze. What is it with those people and staring?

"I know that this must be very frustrating for you, and that you can't understand why we were so harsh on you, but believe me when I say that all I ever did, I did for my children."

"I know," Dean says, more gently. "Cas told me about his dad." Naomi seems surprised by that. She's good at hiding her reaction, but he can see the way her eyes get wider for a second. "You don't own me any explanations either. What's done is done now," Dean tries to dismiss. He doesn't get why she's here or what she wants. He feels like everything that could be said on Cas and him has been said already. "And I get it, you know. I don't think I'm good enough for Cas either, so," he waves it off, getting up and hoping she'll follow suit. She doesn't move, of course. 

"You're not," she confirms. Okay, outch. "Yet for some reason that I can't grasp, you've managed to make him more happy than I've ever seen him."

"It wouldn't have lasted. It was just the endorphin high from-," he cuts himself off from talking about sex. They exchange a brief glance that tells him she knows exactly what he was going to say and his cheeks burn a little pinker. "From a new relationship. It doesn't mean anything."

"That's what I believed, yes. You're charming enough, I can see why my son would be attracted to your physical aspects," she says, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

"Jee, thanks," Dean grunts, sitting down to hide at least some parts of his body under the table. 

"But it's been weeks now, and Castiel doesn't seem to be able to get a hold of himself."

He wants to say that he seemed fine enough on Thursday, but stops himself, not sure that Cas would have told Naomi about that. Even more so...did he? Cas looks more dishevelled than ever, and like he had lost some weight. Dean never imagined it could be because of him. 

"I don't like seeing my son miserable, Dean," Naomi says. It sounds like an accusation which is a whole new lot of bullcrap. 

"Yeah, God forbid  _ your _ feelings get hurt," Dean ironises, glaring. 

"I don't want this life for my son," she spits, with a hand englobing the room around them. "And I certainly don't want you for him either," she adds. She's less scornful than he was expecting, more resigned and he tenses up when she sighs. "But it doesn't seem like I get a choice in it after all," she admits regretfully. 

"What?" Dean asks, dumbfounded. 

"The heart wants what it wants," she says with a resigned roll of her eyes.

"Did you just quote Selena Gomez to me?"

"That's Emily Dickenson, you heathen," Naomi corrects, looking outraged and like she instantly regrets all that she just said. 

"If you expect that idjit to have ever opened a book, you'd have better luck expecting a fish to speak Spanish" Bobby interrupts from the kitchen's doorway. Naomi turns toward him, back as straight as ever. She looks at him from head to toe with the face of a three years old looking at a plate of spinach. 

"Eh, I read," Dean mutters to himself. He's not surprised when he's ignored.

Naomi gets up and, to Dean's surprise, extends a hand for Bobby to shake. "You must be Dean's employer. Naomi Novak, it's a pleasure to meet you," she says. They shake hands. She actually touches Bobby's permanently oil stained hands and doesn't even look disgusted by it. Bobby takes his cap off for the first time Dean's ever seen. He was convinced it was glued to his head at this point. 

"Bobby Singer, ma'am."

"Mister Singer, I must thank you. I understand that your generosity has changed this young man's life for the better, and I am grateful to you for it."

"Why do you give a rat's ass? Weren't you the one giving him the boot a couple months ago?" Bobby asks.

Naomi seems impassive despite Bobby's usual straightforwardness. "I'm trying to reconsider my position," she admits. She turns back to Dean. "Of course, the decision remains yours, Dean, but know that my door will be open shall you decide to give Castiel a second chance."

"What about your other sons'? I doubt Lucifer would agree with you on that."

"Like me, Lucifer's only fault has only ever been to be protective of his little brother."

"Well, he's also a snooty dickhead."

Naomi's eyes are reproachful, but there is the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. "I won't comment on that."

She takes a little card from her jacket's pocket and slides it on the table toward him. It has Castiel's name and contact information on it. 

"I hope we'll meet again," she concludes. "But if we don't, I wish you well, Dean. Sincerely."

Without further ado, she turns around and with a polite nod to Bobby, she finds her own way out. 

"You weren't kidding about her," Bobby says, looking a little winded by the whole exchange. 

Dean can't respond, eyes glued to the little card. He's never had Castiel's phone number before. There was never a point since Dean didn't have a phone. It's the first time Dean's had an actual way to reach him. 

"Does that mean you'll get your fairy tale happy ending, after all?" Bobby asks, more gently than Dean's ever heard him. 

"I don't know," Dean admits, dazed. 

  
  


************

The card burns a hole in his pocket for days after that. Castiel's phone number, memorized, repeats itself inside his head like a damn song all day long. Dean still panics from time to time, hands patting his pocket to make sure the card is still there. 

He's still not sure he will call. 

Cas' family may not be a problem anymore (well, a smaller one at least), but  _ he  _ still is. Dean still doesn't deserve Castiel. Naomi is only giving them her blessing because she seems to believe Dean somehow makes Castiel happy, but how could he possibly do that? He has nothing to offer. Except maybe some decent sex. He can't see anything else that Cas could possibly want from him. 

They don't like the same things, and while Dean could hold a conversation with Cas and his family, offer some nodding and semi-pertinent questions, he won't be able to fool them for long. Certainly not long enough for them to have any kind of relationship. Cas is bound to realize that they just don't have anything in common. Dean doesn't know anything about art or literature or bees or whatever the Hell else Castiel is probably into. He's a grunt. He knows about cars and can talk about the last episode of Doctor Sexy, but that's about all. His dick isn't enough to make Cas happy long term and Dean...For the first time in his life, Dean can't imagine having anything else than a serious relationship with Castiel. That's freaking the Hell out of him, because that's about as new as him liking a man for the first time. 

Castiel has somehow changed Dean's view on love and relationships and his own damn sexuality so profoundly in such a short time. Who knows how much having Castiel by his side for longer than that will change Dean? What if he wakes up one morning and can't even recognize himself in the mirror? What if he starts to use words like "luncheon" on a daily basis or get an interest in like, politics or something?

Jody and Bobby have a blast when he tells them about his worries. They laugh so much that Jody has to run to the toilets to pee, and Bobby has a cough fit. 

"I hate you both," Dean sulks into his beer. 

"We're just teasing, sweety," Jody says reassuringly, squeezing his hand on the table. "I mean, the idea of you talking posh and eating caviar is hilarious," she teases, "but you'll never be anything different than yourself, Dean. Of course, you'll change. If a relationship doesn't change you in some way, then it's not one worth living through, believe me. But change isn't a bad thing," she explains. "Plus, believe me, there is  _ no chance _ you're ever gonna become a Republican," she says, making Bobby snort at the idea again. This time, Dean relaxes and laughs a little with them. 

"You'll be there to kick my ass if I ever change too much, right?" he asks a little later. 

"Of course, you idjit," Bobby says, like just thinking the idea of not being in Dean's life anymore is absurd. There's something soft in his eyes, something that Dean has searched for in John's eyes for years and isn't quite ready to confront now, so he drops his own gaze. "And don't believe I won't ride your boyfriend's ass if he turns out to be a rightist, too."

"Dude, gross," Dean says with a grimace at the idea. Bobby hit him behind the head in answer to his pervy mind. 

"I can't wait to go eat at Le délicieux and drink champagne in crystal flutes," Jody says dreamily, horribly mispronouncing the french words. "I've always wanted to try the finger thingy on those glasses, you know, to make them whistle. That's a real thing, right?"

Dean shrugs. "You know  _ I _ am not gonna be rich, right? I'll still have to live on my shitty salary."

"Oy!" Bobby protests. 

Jody waves him off. "Meh, you'll be living the high life soon enough, and I do count on you to let some of it rub on us too."

"Gross again," Dean teases. "Although, I do hope Cas will rub  _ some  _ things on me," he adds with a wiggling eyebrow. 

"That means you're gonna stop being a sissy and call him then?" Bobby asks, his face serious again. 

"I-I think so, yes. I mean, not for the-the food and stuff. For him," Dean admits. "I miss him."

************

Dean promises himself to call by midday the next morning, but in the end he doesn't have to. When he wakes up the next day and opens the door to let Daisy in for breakfast, there is a Tesla in the driveway. 

"Hello Dean."

He turns his head to the porch swing, not expecting to see Cas sitting there, Daisy's head on his lap and Rufus sitting at his feet. So much for guard dogs. Bobby is right, he has been spoiling them and making them soft. 

"Cas," he gasps as Daisy rushes to him to tell him hello. He squats as he does every morning to hug her and pat her head, taking this moment with the dog to try and calm his heart. "What are you doing here?" he asks hesitantly when he raises up again. 

Cas has stood up too, approaching a little, but stays a few steps away. He fiddled with the hanging belt of his trenchcoat, rolling and unrolling it over his hand. 

"Mother told me she came to see you, and...I couldn't stand to wait any longer," he admits. "I don't mean to rush you or force your hand," he makes clear, "I just...I wanted to see you. I needed to know if I'm ever going to see you again or-or not," he finishes, hanging his head. 

Dean steps closer until Cas looks back at him. "Does that mean you _ wanted _ to see me again?"

"I want to see you all the time, Dean," Cas confesses, making Dean blushes a little. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness for what I put you through but...Do...Do you want to see me?" he asks, coy. His eyes are searching Dean, full of dread at the idea of not finding what he wishes to see there. 

"I…" Dean wants to reassure him, but he's not good with words, is terrified to say too much or not enough or something wrong. So instead, Dean takes one of Cas' hands and puts it against his chest so Castiel can feel how fast Dean's heart is beating right now. He tries to convey what he feels with a gaze. Cas must get it, because his shoulders drop like someone cut the strings that were keeping him so tense, and used them to raise the corner of his lips up. 

"Dean I-" Dean doesn't let him finish, crushing his mouth against the pink lips he's missed so much instead. It makes him feel like he can breathe for the first time in months. Cas' mouth on him feels so right, it's making his head spin. He teases at the seam of his lips with his tongue, trying to get more of that wonderful feeling, but Cas pushes him away. Dean feels like someone just dropped a bucket of ice on his head, when Cas says "No", keeping him away with a hand on his chest. Thankfully, Cas' other hand cups his jaw in a reassuring caress. The way he looks at Dean is so affectionate that it leaves no doubt about the fact that this is  _ not _ a rejection. "I want to do it properly this time. Let me buy you dinner."

"Technically you've already bought me dinner. More than once," Dean teases. 

"I want to  _ court  _ you, Dean," Cas insists. 

"Court?" Dean grimaces. "Like, buy me flowers and read poetry under my balcony and stuff?"

"Who's living in Victorian England now," Cas jokes. Cas.  _ Jokes _ . "We can start with dinner."

"I don't know, Cas. I don't want any posh dinner. I-I just want an evening with you."

"Come to my place tonight, then. I'll cook for you."

"You cook?" Dean asks, dubious.

"The Chinese place around the corner will cook for you," Cas corrects, making Dean snort. 

"Do I have to wear a suit?"

"You can wear anything you want," Cas reassures. "Or nothing at all."

"Mhhh I like the way you think," Dean drawls, dragging Cas forward by the hips until they're flushed against one another. 

"Is that a yes?" Cas asks, still looking a little unsure.

"To an evening at yours', yes. I'm still on the mend for the whole courting thing. You don't have to charm me, Cas, I'm already all in," he confesses, feeling his cheeks heat a little. He didn't mean to say that. Or maybe he did, he thinks as Cas' eyes soften, his nose suddenly teasing Dean's in a semblance of an esquimo kiss. It's so sweet it's making his teeth ache, but Dean loves it anyway. 

"I am too. I just want to give you everything you deserve," Cas says, their eyes so close that it's making them go cross-eyed. 

Dean tenses up a little at the wording though. "You're way more than I deserve, Cas," he says, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead against the other man's. 

" _ You _ 're more than I deserve," Cas says right back. He sounds like he means it too, which baffles Dean. 

"Look at us, low self-esteem bastards."

"Looks like we're made for each other then."

Dean chuckles. "Looks like," he whispers before brushing his lips against Castiel's again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What? What do you mean there is still one chapter left?"
> 
> All I'm going to say is: you might need some kleenex at the ready for the next one *sadistic laugh*


	8. The first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, last chapter. It makes me sad to say goodbye to this fic, I got attached to this alternate universe and those in it. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the last chapter, I know I enjoyed sharing this story with you. Thank you for reading it.
> 
> PS: [I'm on tumblr too](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/castielific) ;-)

************

"Is that the moment you tell me about your weird fetish or something? Is it poop? Do you like poop stuff?"

Castiel's eyes reach a ridiculous size and he chokes on his mouthful of pie. 

"What are you talking about?" he asks once he stops coughing and can finally breathe again. 

"I'm talking about all that," Dean says, designating the table and Cas and pretty much everything. This night has been so perfect that it's making Dean suspicious. He doesn't get to have such nice things in his life. 

Dean was worried about feeling out of place in Cas' home. That it would be immaculate and look like a castle or be full of expensive stuff that Dean would be worried about breaking or soiling. Instead, it's...just a flat. Well, maybe not just a flat, it's an awesome flat, but less grandiloquent that Dean was expecting. Sure, it has the kind of kitchen Dean has only ever seen in movies (which he did point out as ridiculous since Cas apparently doesn't even know how to boil an egg), but the living room is homey with shelfs full of books, nature pictures hanging on the wall instead of snobbish art like Dean was dreading. The flooring is made of a honey color wood and the couch looks like the comfiest thing Dean will ever sit on. The space is nice, but not overly large, with a panel window that shows a large balcony full of pots of flowers and shrub. 

Castiel had ordered way too much food, probably every single thing on the menu at the Chinese place. He looked cheapish about it, explaining that he wasn't sure what Dean would like. It was cute. He'd also remember that Dean liked pie and bought the most delicious apple pie that Dean's ever eaten.

Soft music is playing in the background, the table looks nice with actual candles on it, and Dean must have mentioned his favorite brand of beer because there it was. Cas was sipping red wine, proving that he's bought the beer just for Dean. 

Dean has just spent the last half hour complaining about Bobby's antics and talking about the new tricks he's taught Daisy. Cas has been listening, laughing in all the right places and asking questions like he was actually interested in the crap Dean was telling. 

All of it makes absolutely no sense at all. 

"How the hell are you still single?" Dean finally explodes. "What's the catch? It _is_ a poop thing, isn't it?"

Castiel burst out laughing and Dean can't help but join him. "You're ridiculous," Cas says affectionately. 

"No, _you're_ ridiculous. Ridiculously perfect and I don't get it!"

That seems to sober Cas up a little. He takes one of Dean's hands in his on the table, passing a soft finger over his knuckles. "I can assure you Dean that I don't have some strange sexual fascination with excrement."

"Feet then?" Dean can work with feet. It's not his thing, but Cas is worth a few awkward acts involving feet. 

Cas rolls his eyes. "To my knowledge, I don't have any weird sexual inclination. Although, I've never had much chance to explore that," Cas admits. "I was hoping we'd get to do that together."

"Oh, we will," Dean assures, leering at Cas. He's still wondering about how a guy like Cas could still be a virgin at thirty. Sure Cas had some experiences with blowjobs and probably handstuffs, but why nothing else? It can't be because he didn't get the chance. Surely, anyone meeting Cas would want to tap that ass. Hell, Dean was heterosexual and even he did! So how come Cas never had actual penetrative sex before Dean? And most importantly, why would he let a bum like Dean be his first if he was so selective?

Cas must feel Dean still has questions because his face gets serious again. "I'm not sure, exactly, why I've been single for so long. Many of the men I met through my family or work seemed to be...how you'd have called them 'pompous asses'.They cared so much about appearances and reputations that I couldn't relate much to them. And the people I met outside of those mediums...Do you know the first time I started liking you?"

"What? It wasn't love at first sight?" Dean mimics being shocked, cheeks heating a little when he realizes he said 'love'. 

Cas smiles fondly at him. "The night of the engagement party. I came to pick you up and you threw a fit because you hated my car," Cas smiles, like he remembers the moment fondly. "Most of the people I tried to date, their attitude always changed when they noticed the car, or the quality of my suit, or got a glance at my centurion credit card. We could have spent the most boring night, they would always perk up and suddenly become more interested in me once they realized I had money. But you, you didn't care to please me or how expensive my car was. You stayed true to your beliefs anyway." 

"Well, yeah, because Tesla's are crap," Dean points out. He scratched a little nervously at the top of Cas' hand still grasping his. "I hate to say it, but you're wrong though Cas. The only reason we're even here is because I wanted to get a free meal out of you," Dean admits guiltily. 

Cas inclines his head, scrutinizing him. "Would you have acted any different if it was Mc Donald's rather than Le Délicieux?"

Dean thinks about it for a second. "I honestly don't think I would have. I'd have endured your mother for half a stale sandwich at that point."

Cas makes a face like it hurts him to hear that. Dean has come clean to him about his homelessness earlier tonight. He didn't want to feel like he had to hide it, or to dread Cas' rejection when he'd found out, so he told him everything. There was never any pity in Cas' gaze, just sadness and compassion, just like now. 

Cas gets up and kneels beside Dean's chair, grabbing his hands to make Dean turn toward him. "You're the least vain person I've ever met Dean. Despite all your difficulties, you're still kind and compassionate. _That'_ s the reason you're here, and not anyone else. The reason that made me trust you, and want you by my side," Cas says earnestly, a thumb passing over Dean's bottom lip. 

"Damn, you weren't kidding about the courting thing," Dean says, voice a little strangled by emotions and cheeks burning. He tries to hide it. Then he tries to stop trying to hide it. Cas deserves to see how much it affects him. Dean may not be as good or open with words, but he'll do anything he can to prove to this man how precious he is to him. He leans forward to try and show it with a kiss. 

It's the sweetest kiss they've ever shared, so tender it makes butterflies scatter in his stomach. They separate and stare into each other's eyes for a moment. And damn, Dean is gone on this man. Gone enough to maybe even accept the poop stuff if it comes to that. Anything to spend as long as he humanly can by Castiel's side, to keep his affection. Maybe even earn his love. The thought is as terrifying as it's exhilarating. It's certainly new. Rather than run from it like he usually does, Dean wants to _explore_ it. 

The next kiss is more passionate, tongues sliding together. Dean pulls on Cas' elbows, making him raise and guiding him to sit on his lap, but Cas resists. He bites Dean's bottom lip instead, before taking a step back. One of his hands is still clasped in Dean's and he pulls him until Dean follows, dazed and excited as Cas leads him to what he hopes is the bedroom. 

"Wait, is this the moment you lead me to your sex dungeon?" he teases. 

"What's a sex dungeon?" Cas asks, opening a door revealing a simple bedroom. 

"Oh boy, we have much to explore together," Dean says. He pushes Cas against the wall right next to the door, pinning him against it with his hips. He can feel Cas' hardening cock against his thigh. It makes more blood rush to his own. "I can't wait to do that with you."

"No need to wait, I'm all yours and ready now," Cas says with a smirk, one hand squeezing Dean's ass, making him groan. 

"You don't know what you're getting into," Dean says, sucking a bruise at the cord of Cas' neck. The other man pushes back his head, giving him better access. 

"I guess you'll have to show me."

Dean pushes harder against him, rubbing his half-hard dick against Cas' hips. This man is driving him crazy, clouding his mind with so much desire that he can't think clearly. 

"There is one thing..." Dean thinks out loud. He winks when he notices Cas' curious look. Then he drops to his knees. 

"Fuck!" Cas can't help but gasp. Bringing this man to swear feels like one of the biggest satisfaction in Dean's _life._

He smirks as he undoes Cas' pants, sliding it off along with his underwear, impatient. He can't help but groan when he looks up. The head of Cas' dick is just peeking out between the pans of his button down shirt, the dark pink of it contrasting with the pristine white. When Dean licks his lips, Cas twitches and hardens slowly the rest of the way. Dean looks on, fascinated as it pushes a little more at the fabric around it. Only Cas' hands caressing his hair brings him out of his contemplation. Dean's mouth is salivating, which is still a new sensation when looking at another guy's junk, but there's no doubt in his mind that he wants his mouth all over it. He undoes the bottom buttons on the shirt, his fingers brushing against the hardness just under it as he reveals more and more of it. 

"Take it off," he instructs, pushing the pans of the shirt up in impatience. Cas obeys, undoing the last buttons and letting the shirt fall to the ground. 

When Dean looks up, Cas is gloriously naked with the exception of his tie. It should look ridiculous, yet it's the sexiest thing Dean has ever seen. Their eyes meet, blue hooded with so much desire it makes Dean shivers in anticipation. He continues to stare at Castiel as he circles a hand over the base of his shaft, captivated by Cas' reaction as he starts to slowly stroke up and down. He passes a thumb over the head, pressing a little over the slit and Cas bites his lip. Dean feels wet heat over the pad of his finger and he can't help his eyes from sliding along Cas' torso, down to the member right in front of him. He doesn't hesitate, poking his tongue out to gather the little pearl of precome. Cas' moan is everything Dean ever wants to hear. So he does it again, tongue pushing at the slit, then rolling around the head and pressing just under it. He opens his mouth wider and let's his tongue slide against the vein under Cas' cock as he takes it into his mouth for the first time. He can't take much of it in, so he covers the base with his hand, holding the shaft steady as he experiments with moving a little forward and backward. 

Cas' hand is still in his hair, not pushing, but pulling harder and harder. Dean loves it. He's always loved it when women would grab his hair like this, pushing his head closer between their legs. It feels just as good with a man, and Dean wishes Cas would just take what he wants from him, fucks his mouth until his throat is raw. He knows it’s too soon, but Dean is looking forward to being experimented enough that he can allow it. Hell, he's looking forward to all the training he'll have to do to learn to take more and more of Cas in his mouth, in his throat. The thought alone makes him moan around his mouthful, the aborted little thrust Cas makes in answer giving him a rush of adrenaline. 

God he loves that. Why hasn't he been doing that for the last ten years? He looks up, eyes meeting blue and that's answer enough. He just hadn't met Castiel yet. 

Cas' lips look bright red. He keeps biting it, trying to muffle all the sweet noises Dean is craving to hear. The next time he does, Dean pointely sucks harder until Cas can't keep the noise in anymore. He does it again and again until Cas seems to get the message and opens his mouth instead. His moans are music to Dean's ears as he concentrates on going a little faster, trying to push just this little bit farther. The taste of Cas is more and more heavy on his tongue. He tries to swallow it, but can't quite manage it yet and has to get off regretfully to breathe. 

He's panting, his own dick pulsing against the restraint of his pants. Dean opens them with a sigh of relief. He pushes the heel of his hand against himself, thrusting involuntarily against it. Could he come just from sucking Cas off? He feels like he's gonna burst already. Surely, it can't be possible, can it?

Dean opens his mouth to protest when Cas' hands slide under his armpits, manhandling him up. He wasn't finished down there! Before he can say anything, though, Cas pushes him and he falls on the bed a few steps behind him, bouncing on his back. Cas is immediately between his spread legs and, okay, that's super hot. He's never been with someone so strong before and he can definitely see the perks of it. His pants are shoved to his knees and he yelps when warmth is suddenly engulfing him. Damn, he wishes he knew how to do that, Dean thinks as his cock slides all the way to Cas' throat. He bucks up, hitting the back of it and Cas barely reacts, taking it in stride as he slides nearly all the way off and down again smoothly. 

"Feels like you still gave those pompous asses a good time," Dean rasps. He hates the burst of jealousy in his guts at the thought. 

"Oh I had some fun," Cas says, pressing his smirk against the head of Dean's cock. "Not as much fun as I'm going to have with you though," he punctuates his words by grabbing under Dean's knees, pulling them up until they're pushed up against Dean's chest. Cas falls to his knees in front of the bed, leaning Dean's feet on his shoulders. Dean should feel embarrassed about how exposed that leaves him, but before he can even think about it, Cas' mouth latches onto his balls, and Dean can't quite think anymore. Cas is licking and sucking eagerly, and Dean shivers when he feels saliva trickling along his balls and further beneath him. Cas' mouth follows the same trail, nudging Dean's balls up with his nose and sucking at the spot just under it, making Dean buck up with a shout. He's touched his taint before, even experimented with his asshole since the last time he saw Cas. He's learned to relax into it and bring pleasure to himself under the shower with a finger teasing his entrance. Living on Bobby's couch never really gave him the opportunity to explore more than that, but he wants to. He really _really_ wants to. 

"Is this okay?" Cas asks, pausing until their eyes meet. 

"I'll tell you if it's not anymore," Dean says, nodding eagerly. 

In answer, Cas pushes Dean's knees a little higher. He releases them suddenly, making Dean scramble to catch his thighs in his own hands or have them flop down the side of the bed, as Cas goes to search the nightstand. A few seconds later, he's kneeling back in front of the bed again, right between Dean's legs, a bottle of lube in his hand. Dean blushes when he realizes he's basically presenting himself, holding his legs spreaded and pushed against his chest. How wanton he must look. He can see nothing but heat in Cas' gaze though, see it burn even hotter when he feels himself clench and release under the observation. 

Cas leaves a trail of kisses on the back of his thighs before his mouth is back on Dean's balls. It's less hurried this time, as he sucks one in his mouth, making it roll into his mouth before he does the same to the other. Dean is glad for the gentler pace because an eager Cas is apparently a force to be reckoned with and Dean wouldn't have lasted long like this. He wants to take his time, to feel and enjoy everything. Cas' tongue circles the base of Dean's cock, then along it until he's sucking softly on the head, as one of Cas' hands draws soft patterns on Dean's lower stomach. Dean sighs at the sensation, heart calming a little. It's distracting enough that he barely tense up when he feels Cas' lubed up finger on his hole. It's not pressing, not trying to enter, just staying there as Cas continues to lick him like he's a freaking popsicle. Cas waits for Dean to be completely relaxed before his fingers start to draw small circles against his fluttering hole, massaging slowly and making Dean tremble. He gasps when the muscle parts and the tip of Cas finger slips inside. 

"Cas!"

"Still okay?" Cas asks, mouth nibbling the back of Dean's thigh. 

"Yes," Dean breathes. "Yes!" he says louder when Cas starts to slowly push in. He's not even inside to the second knuckle before Dean is panting. It doesn't hurt, Cas is being careful enough to slowly thrust his finger, pushing increasingly deeper and deeper. It doesn't hurt, but it still feels like an intrusion, like this finger is never going to fit in there, let alone anything else. He can feel his body pushing against it, but also clenching desperately for it when Cas slips out. Dean's whole focus is on those sensations, barely able to feel it as Cas strokes his dick. 

Cas' eyes are right on his ass, like he's watching the most fascinating show. It makes Dean wonder if he's ever done this before, or if it's as new to Castiel as it is to him. Cas certainly knew how to prepare himself last time. Hell, he must be experimented enough that he's become a fucking pro because Dean barely even realizes it as a second finger joins the first. Somehow it _does_ fit. 

Soon, those long fingers are moving faster, Cas' teeth mouthing on the inside of Dean's thigh, eyes on him as he watches for his reaction. The idea that Cas might leave a mark there makes Dean bucks up again. Thank God for Cas' reflexes or that would have made Dean slip right off the bed. Instead, Cas' free hand grabs his hip, pinning him in place. Dean can't help but feel a rush at this new reminder of Cas' strength. The movement has changed the angle, Cas' fingers slipping just a bit deeper and Dean shouts as a whole new sensation surges through him, a shot of electricity making every nerve in his body light up in pleasure for a fraction of a second. Interest piqued, Cas does it again, and again. He rubs against that place inside Dean until his back is arching, his dick leaking a constant flow of precome, drenching his shaft and sliding along his balls until it joins the lube around Cas' fingers. 

Castiel pushes a third finger inside, stretching him as he pushes in harder, hitting the right spot every few moves. His tongue laps up at the trail of precome, until he's sucking at the head of Dean's cock like he's craving more of the taste.

"Cas!" Dean shouts. "Please, you. Need you." His head is clouded with so much pleasure that he can barely think, but he knows his peak is close and he wants to feel Cas. He wants to come with Cas buried deep inside him. 

Cas gets up, leaning over Dean's legs until he can kiss him. It pushes Dean's knees nearly to his chin, stretching him more than he thought he could. It's not very comfortable though, so he wraps his legs around Cas' hips instead. Castiel's mouth tastes like Dean's come. It's filthy and perfect. It makes Dean's head swim. He pulls Cas' closer with his legs, making the other man chuckle against his lips at his eagerness. Or maybe in happiness. Dean knows he feels damn happy right now, gleeful and like he's on freaking cloud nine. 

Their lips are still against each other when the blunt pressure of Cas' dick pushes against him. Dean doesn't tense up though, he _wants_ it. He pushes the heels of his feet into the small of Cas' back instead, trying to bring him even closer. They both grunt against each other's mouths as the head finally pops in. It feels huge and like it's straining him more than he can handle, but Dean bares down, arching his back to push back against Cas. The other man starts slowly circling his hips and Dean throws his head back, Cas' mouth immediately latching on his throat. Those little moves are driving Dean crazy, they make his nerves spark with a mixture of too much and not enough that's blurring his vision. 

Dean sighs when he feels the pain finally giving over to pleasure. His muscles relax and they both groan as Cas is suddenly slipping more easily in. Soon he's bottoming out, his balls flush against Dean's ass and it's Cas' turn to pant as he grinds uncontrollably against Dean, like he's trying to go deeper and deeper. They're nowhere else to go though, but Dean gets it. He wants as much of Cas as he can get too. He pulls on Cas' shoulders until they're flush from head to hip, as close as they could possibly be. It feels like everything. Like the place Dean was always meant to be, as Cas' arms slips under him and hugs him back.

They stay like this for a minute, lips latching in a languorous kiss until they just don't have the breath to continue and have to separate. The need to move is becoming more and more urgent too, Dean's cock leaking in desperation against Cas' stomach, crying for more. Dean whines his lost when Cas slips the whole way out. His hole is left gaping, fluttering as it searches for the length that has suddenly disappeared. Cas grabs Dean's legs, readjusting them until he's gained more leverage, his feet on the ground and his hands on the mattress next to Dean's head. 

When he reenters, the angle is different, easier, and Cas slips easily in. Castiel experiments with shallow thrusts a few times before suddenly his hips are surging back and forward more vigorously, slamming inside Dean and making him gasp. Cas manhandles Dean's pliant body until his hips are just a little higher and suddenly Dean is shouting, hands flying to his own dick to search for his release. At this angle, Cas' dick is hitting exactly where he needs it, again and again in hard thrusts that are making him crazy. He can feel his balls tensing, the high he's craving just there, as his hands fly on his own member. 

Cas is slamming into him faster now. The wet noise of his balls slapping against Dean's ass and their joined pants sound filthy and erotic in the otherwise silent room. A particularly sharp thrust makes Dean's toes curl and it only takes a few more thrusts before his whole body clenches around Cas' shaft, his cock spilling everything it can on Dean's own stomach. 

Dean blinks his eyes open when Cas grunts his name. Their eyes met and bliss is suddenly painting Cas' features. His mouth is gaping open in a long moan as Castiel grinds as deep as he can against Dean. Dean watches Cas, captivated by the beauty of the other man as he comes. Cas' thrust slows down and Dean bites his lip around a whimper as he feels some of Castiel's slick leaking out around his shaft. Cas falls against him and Dean squeezes him harder as Castiel pants against his neck, dick twitching and spurting the last drops of his release inside Dean's body. 

Soon, Dean doesn't have the strength to keep his legs up anymore, muscles twitching painfully in his thighs, so he lets his own legs fall along the edge of the bed. He whines regretfully when it makes Cas slip out of him, the filthy sensation of come and lube leaking from his gaping asshole is as thrilling as it feels disgusting. Cas steps back from between his legs before quite literally face planting on the bed next to Dean, making him chuckle. Cas turns his head toward him and they just look at each other for a while, a beatific smile on both their lips. 

"Not bad for a first exploration, huh?" Dean teases softly after a while. He should probably get up and wash up, but he can't quite bring himself to move.

Cas looks scandalized. "Not bad?"

"Okay, four stars, at least," Dean concedes jokingly. 

"Out of how many?" Cas asks with a cute frown. 

"Five?"

Cas grunts. "I'm not sure I can do much better than that," he whines, looking a little disconcerted.

"Guess we'll just have to keep trying," Dean says, rolling on his side until he can deposit a kiss on Cas' shoulder. He can't help himself and it soon turns into a bite that makes Cas shivers. Dean soothes it with his tongue, as he ponders. "I never reached more than a three, so I'd say that's a very good start."

That seems to reassure Cas, who thinks for a second before he asks seriously, "Are you going to write me a full on review then?"

Dean squints at him. "You'd like that wouldn't you, you nerd," he says, laughing. 

"I only aim to get better," Cas answers with a smirk. 

"Honestly, I don't see how it can get better than that, but we've got to have a margin of progress, right?"

"Oh yeah, keep talking dirty to me," Cas intices, rolling on his side and sliding closer to Dean, one leg covering his. 

"Oh god, I did it, and on the first try too, I found your weird kink!" Dean exclaims, bursting in laughter. "It's corporate dirty talk!"

  
  


************

"There is something that I feel I must show you," Cas admits after round two. They're still laying over the covers, but at least this time they're the right side up in the bed. Cas' tie is finally off too. That's progress.

"Oh, I think I've seen everything already," Dean teases, dragging his eyes along Cas' still naked body. There's a series of bright red marks on his collarbone that burns a new fire in Dean's gut every time he sees them. He's never been very possessive before but with Cas...He wants the whole world to know that Cas is his. That someone as exceptional as Castiel wants _him_ : Dean Winchester. Just thinking it gives him a rush and makes him feel like the luckiest bastard alive. 

Cas' rolls his eyes with a smile. "I'm serious. I'm not sure if...I hope it will please you and not torment you in any way."

"That's not worrying at all," Dean says with a frown as Cas strotts to the desk in the corner. 

"While we were...separated, there were times I wanted to call you," Cas admits as he sits over the cover next to Dean, a craft envelope in hands. "I didn't have any way to reach you, had no idea where you lived," he continues, looking so sad at the memory that Dean slides a little closer to him until he can push his chin onto his shoulder. "All I had was your name, so...I did some research," he confesses hesitantly. 

"It's okay, Cas, I don't have anything to hide from you."

"I know," Cas swears. "There isn't much about you on the internet anyway, except...Well, I happened to stumble across another Winchester. Samuel Winchester," Castiel says hesitantly. Dean immediately tenses up against him, straightening up on the bed.

"What?"

"I-I wasn't sure if you would be interested, but I thought I should keep the information, just in case," Cas says carefully, watching for Dean's reaction. 

Dean's eyes are stuck onto the file in Cas' hands, miles going a mile a minute and heart beating so hard it's all he can hear in his ears. Cas hands him the papers slowly, like he's not sure if he should or if Dean wants it. 

Dean's not sure either and just blinks at it for a moment. 

"I-I can't Cas," Dean finally says, detourning his eyes from the envelope. He could barely read it through the tears in his eyes anyway, his vision blurring as it fills more and more. What good will it be to know? What if he just discovers that Sam is dead or...or worse, somehow? What if he discovers that he's perfectly fine and yet still hates Dean's guts too much to ever be a part of his life again?

"I really think you should look at it, Dean," Cas invites softly. He pushes the papers closer to Dean, and Dean relents, taking it with a trembling hand. Cas' stare is firm and loving, makes him feel like whatever he's going to find in there, he will be okay. Whatever it is, Cas will be by his side to help him through it.

This time, it's Castiel that slides closer, so close that's he's hugging his arm as Dean opens the envelope on his lap. 

There are a few pages inside. 

The first one wrenches a shock sob from Dean's lips. It's just a few lines, Sam's name along with an address. "He..he's in Lawrence?" Dean gasps, not believing his eyes. All this time, he thought Sam had stayed in California after his years at Stanford. He thought his little brother lived on the other side of the country when, really, he was just a few blocks away. "How? W-why?" Dean asks, unbelieving. Why would Sam ever come back here? The last time Dean heard about him, he was refusing to even come to their dad's funeral and swearing he was done with this part of his life, that John was nothing to him anymore. He never said that about Dean, but it was clear enough. 

In answer, Cas nudges him to continue to look through the papers. 

The next one is a screencap of a facebook page. Dean only knows that because the words 'facebook' is written on top of it, he's never even been on that website before. To him, all the internet is good for is porn and ordering car parts for the garage. 

There's a picture of Sam with his arm around a pretty blond girl. He looks like a man now. Last time Dean saw him, he was in his late teen, scrawny and gangly. Now he's filled up, his features sharper. His hair is still too long and shaggy for Dean's taste, but that makes him smile. How many quarrels did they have about Sam's hair? Dean used to tease him relentlessly and hassle him to get a damn haircut, but Sam had a weird thing about hairdressers ever since he was three and one nip at his ear with the scissors. 

In the picture, Sam looks happy, with the same lopsided smile he had when he was a kid. Dean looks at him for what is probably too long, but Cas doesn't rush him, a solid presence by his side, his breath leaving a comforting caress against the side of Dean's neck. 

When he finally turns to the next page, Dean can't quite comprehend what he's seeing. It's a picture of him, twenty one and wearing his dad's too big leather jacket, just a few months before Sam left. The page is also a screencap from the internet, but this time there's a text in a small font below it. Dean can't quite believe it when he starts reading. He reads it again and again until a tear falling on the page startles him out of his stupor.

"Sammy searched for me?" he asks, voice strangled. He turns to the next page and it's the same picture from what looks like another website, and then another one. 

"The first one is from two years ago. The last one is from last month," Cas explains, taking the papers that Dean is involuntarily crumbling into his hands away. There is a sob stuck in Dean's throat and he can't quite remember how to breath. Castiel cradles his face, turning him until Dean's red eyes are into his. "Your brother never gave up on you, Dean. You were never truly alone."

That makes Dean break down, falling forward into Cas' shoulder. His tears are of relief and love and so many regrets at the same time. Years of thinking he wasn't worth anyone's love, not even the love of the most important person to him, the one he gave his whole childhood too. All of it was a lie. All this time, Sam was longing for him, missing him as much as Dean was, as full of regret and love as Dean ever was. 

Most of all, it's the realization that he could have died that first night at the salvage yard that makes his belly hitches with a new sob. He could have died miserable, and alone, and thinking he wasn't worth shit, when really, two of the most amazing men he's ever met were waiting for him to find his way back to them. 

He doesn't know how long he cries for. Cas is murmuring comfort into his ear, hugging him tight against his chest and balancing him slightly in an effort to sooth him. 

After what seems like an eternity, Dean can't sob anymore, his chest so full of feelings that he can barely breathe. He still stays snuggled against Cas, lost in his own thoughts as he tries to process it all. He's thinking back to the past and seeing nothing but misery, yet for the first time he feels like he can hope for a better future. He has Castiel now. And Bobby, and Jody. Even Naomi is trying to show kindness and offering him a new chance at a family. 

More than that, Sam's always been everything to him, and now he has a chance to get him back. To have a family of his own choice, with his own blood and without. It won't be easy. Things will be challenging, they still have their differences. Sam and him still need to talk about everything that happened between them, about how Dean chose his mistreating dad over his own brother. Yet, everything feels different now. Now he knows that Sammy has the strength and the will to forgive him. Dean isn't sure he's ready to forgive himself yet, he probably never will be for abandoning his brother in that way. It doesn't matter though. He'll work on it, with his brother, with Cas, with Bobby kicking his ass, probably. 

Naomi, Lucifer and the rest of Cas' family and friends are gonna be a challenge as well. There are many challenges to come. It doesn't matter though, he'll do what he has to do to earn his place with Cas, to be good enough for him. They still barely know each other, but he can feel it, he _knows_ in his guts and his heart, that Cas is the one for him. 

He's never thought he could be so lucky. For the first time, he thinks he has a real chance at happiness. It's lighting up a fire in him that he thought he had lost so long ago. For the first time, he has hope. For the first time, he feels ready to fight for himself and those he loves, he feels that maybe it can all be worth it. Even himself. 

This time, he's not missing his chance and he's not giving up without a fight. 

It's decided, Dean Winchester is gonna be happy for once.

Forever if he can.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do tears count as kudos?


End file.
